


you ruin everything you touch and destroy anyone you love, you're all over me

by Anonymous



Series: dog teeth [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A lot of Gaslighting actually, Angst, Canon Divergent, Coercion, Dream shows up, Gaslighting, Grooming, He actually shows up for a large chunk of this, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Past Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, Maybe - Freeform, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Explicit Depictions of Past Sexual Abuse, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Platonic Hand Holding, Post Tommy Exile Arc, References to Sexual Acts within Dialogue, Sexual Abuse, Tommy is Wrongly Accused of A Crime, Trauma, Vulgar Language, depictions of violence, mild violence, no romantic relationships, not sure what to call it in this context honestly, suicidal ideations, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tommy ends up face to face with everything he's tried to bury.
Series: dog teeth [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069550
Comments: 34
Kudos: 389





	you ruin everything you touch and destroy anyone you love, you're all over me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from song 'Dog Teeth' by Nicole Dollanganger
> 
> Read the rest of the [series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069550) as it's all chronological/they build off each other. Posting in parts tricks my brain into thinking this isn't long form fanfiction. 
> 
> Spoiler, but Dream isn't just existing in flashbacks in this one, keep that in mind when reading. A lot of things in this part could be triggering (manhandling, extreme gaslighting, being back in the influence of an abuser, etc.) so be mindful of that too. There are no explicitly written sexual acts and all rape/non-con is in the past as per usual (besides a non-con kiss scene that occurs), however, there are discussions and references to past rape/non-con in dialogue and mildly in introspection that are not exactly vague. 
> 
> This is not intended to romanticize or sexualize any of the themes depicted within. This also does not reflect any of the content creators nor real life people who share names or handles. These are characters here and the events are, for all intents and purposes, fictional. 
> 
> As a note, in this SBI dynamics aren't a thing. Not sure if that was clear but clearing it up now. But yeah the only people directly related are Wilbur and Phil. (As per phil always calling wilbur his son in canon). Tommy is like that kid that walks into someone's house and eats the food in the fridge without asking and shit because he knows the people that live there kind of relation to them. 
> 
> (To give credit where credit is due, the idea for the redstone implant behind the ear is _very_ loosely ripped from a concept in the show 3%)

Ranboo arrived early in the morning, in tow behind Phil who had already taken off with Technoblade, the both of them armed with pickaxes and headed for the nether. For the past twenty minutes it had just been him and the awkward half-ender, and he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to broach the subject pinging around in his head. 

He had even gone through the trouble of cobbling together a makeshift bench before sunrise, sat it just outside the cabin, cleared out a section of snow beside it, down to the dirt and mud, and laid sticks over it so he could plop his jukebox on anything besides slush. He had it all set up and ready for him to do the stupidest thing he had ever thought to do in his entire fucking life. 

The letter nearly burned a hole in his back pocket. It might as well have been on fire for how much attention he gave it over Ranboo, who fidgeted and meandered around the outside of the cabin, fist tucked under his chin as he inspected it. 

"I, uhm, didn't really get to see the place that well when I came here before, and I don't remember a lot of it. But it's… It's actually pretty homely," Ranboo said after a bit. 

His brow furrowed. "Oh, yeah...the, uh, Butcher Army shit. How'd that even go?" 

Obviously unwell, considering Technoblade was very alive.

"About as bad as it could have gone honestly," Ranboo chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

He contemplated sitting on the bench, sitting on the steps of the cabin, inviting Ranboo inside to sit at the dining table, circled back to his first idea and then scrapped it all together. What if he _didn't_ give Ranboo the letter actually? That'd be okay right? No harm, no foul? They could just hang out and not make it all depressing and shit, yeah? 

The half-ender glanced over at him, green and red eyes blinking owlishly before Ranboo's lips tilted up in a small smile, all dimpled and half of his face freckled and-- Yikes. Yeah, no. Ranboo would absolutely not pass under Dream's scope unnoticed. Fuck. Fuck him. This fucking _sucked_. 

He perched on the bench first, hoping the natural order of things would be that Ranboo would wander over on his own, and he wouldn't have to make this awkward by forcing him to sit next to him. _chirp_ spun away in the jukebox and he tapped his foot to it, fingers drumming on his leg. 

The creak of the bench betrayed Ranboo sitting down beside him, and he glanced over to see him with his arms crossed and eyes locked on his shoes. 

"Uh--" 

"I--" 

They both shut their mouths at the same time. 

"You fucking-- Uh, you go first," he insisted. 

"I'm-- I'm glad you're okay." Ranboo started, sighing. "Tubbo tried to call you. I did too. You, uhm-- You never answered. We thought you'd--" Ranboo's shoulders hiked up. "I mean we had a funeral and everything and-- He thought-- Well, he thought you had…" The half-ender swallowed loud enough he could hear it. "We thought you had jumped." 

"Yeah, about that..." He rubbed the back of his neck. Technically he had jumped, just not where he had wanted to. 

Ranboo glanced over at him. "Why didn't you answer when we called?" 

Instead of saying anything he folded his ear down with his fingers, tilted his head. Knew Ranboo saw the small cluster of scar tissue nestled at the crease of his ear when the half-ender hissed through his teeth. 

"Oh, geez-- That-- That looks bad. How'd that even happen?" 

"Uh--" 

_His hands slip and slide across his skin, the sharp stone falling from his shaking fingers as he digs his fingers in, twists them around and winces and grits his teeth. He finds it after some searching, plucks it free, sets it in his palm. It sits, a fat and bloated tick covered in blood, red stone glinting in a rhythmic pattern within the speck of an implant._

_It's all he has left. It's the only way any of them could contact him. It's the only way Dream could contact him if he wanted to. And Dream is all he has. Dream is all he has--_

_He drops it onto the forest floor, clutches a stone in his hand, and raises it._

_Dream is the only friend he has left. He's the only thing he has left. Without him he's all alone. He'll be all alone if he--_

_He smashes it into dust; until his fingers bleed, until the stone tumbles from his bloodied palm and--_

He shook his head. "Yeah, after I decided to leave I took it out somewhere between here and the beach... It was less than fucking pleasant." 

"Does Techno know about that?"

"Not like it's really come up. He doesn't really use his that often and most people just use it to bitch at him first. I'm usually within shouting distance anyways, so--" He shrugged. 

"For safety reasons, uhm, maybe let him know. Just in case." 

"Maybe…" But then he would ask why, and that was a bit hard to explain without going into all of it. 

Ranboo's claws tapped against the bench, the half-ender leaning forward and then back. "So…." 

"Right, uh-- Actually had him call you here 'cause--" He pulled the letter out and turned it over in his hand a few times. "I never got to deliver this, uh... This fucking letter." 

"Oh… Alright." 

Ranboo reached for it, and he reflexively yanked it back. 

"Uh-- Fuck, sorry." He held it out again, ignored the way his fingers shook and his throat tightened. 

Ranboo delicately pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, and it was like a dagger had been pulled from his side for how much it stung when it left his hand. He grit his teeth, tapped his foot, leg jittering, stomach turning and shoulders tensed. Every shift of parchment as Ranboo unfolded it stuck in his ears and slipped down his spine in the sickly phantom crawl of spider legs. 

He waited, toes pressing into his sneakers, the snow dappling his shoulders and falling against his legs melting slowly, seeping in a cold chill through the fibers. Ranboo's eyes flicked across the page, the flat, rectangle pupils darting over the words, and it was only a matter of time before he got to the part of the letter he contemplated ripping to shreds even now. And, like a string tied around a loose and wiggling tooth, he waited in anticipation, for a hand to yank down so hard the root tore it's way out of him, all blood and bone and far too quickly. It was only a matter of time until--

"Oh, gosh--" Ranboo's ears sloped down, eyes pinching, a furrow cropping up between his brows. "Oh, that's not-- That's not good." 

He laughed, laughed loud and sudden and it ripped out of him, like it had clattered up his ribcage and he hunched over with it. 

"Tommy?" Ranboo asked. "Uhm, are you--" 

He covered his face with his hands, sides falling and rising in frantic, burbling wheezes. 

"I'm not sure what the joke is here." Ranboo said and Tommy could hear that little questioning note rise in his voice. 

"It's not--" He swiped at his face. "There's no fucking punchline, I'm just--" He shook his head, still laughing. "Didn't expect that shit." 

"Oh, well--" Ranboo glanced down, frowning. "I haven't exactly had to, uh… react to this kind of thing before." 

"Naw, naw, it's not fucking-- It's not bad or anything. It's better than--" 

"Than what?" 

"Throwing up or some shit, I don't know." 

"I do admittedly feel a bit...ill." Ranboo held up his hands and he didn't miss the slight tremor in them. "But it's mostly the fact that I-- I mean I just spoke with him yesterday and I didn't even-- I--" Ranboo touched his own shoulder and he knew the other was imagining someone else's hand there. "I didn't know." 

He settled back against the impromptu bench, huffing out a wry laugh. "Yeah, he's-- I mean, it's not like he's gone round yelling to the fucking rooftops that he fucks teens." 

Ranboo hissed low and under his breath, wincing beside him. Humor was easy, it rolled off his tongue like spit, and he forgot that other people didn't exactly deal with these issues with the same sort of morbid levity his brain twisted it up into. 

"Sorry, uh, that was fucked up…" he muttered. 

"I'm--" Ranboo paused, shaking his head. "Does Technoblade know?" 

"Fuck no," he sneered.

Ranboo's ears fell. "It's really not my place to say, but maybe you should tell him." 

His heart stuttered, tripping in his chest. "I-- I only told you first 'cause, I fucking-- You were the first person who would have known anyway if I'd actually left it, but I bitched out." 

"Well, uhm… Thank you for telling me." Ranboo folded the letter, carefully and precisely turning it back into a small square that he offered back. 

Tommy grabbed it, thumb sliding over the parchment for a moment as he contemplated what to do with it. He ended up pocketing it again. Ranboo pulled out his journal, flipped it open, and, eyes darting over the page, he stiffened.

"Oh-- Oh, no..." Ranboo huffed out a breath, rubbing at his cheek. "I have to meet up with him and Tubbo later... I-- I don't know how I'm supposed to act like everything is, uhm...normal." 

He shrugged, thumb nail worrying between his teeth as he muttered. "Pretending is pretty fucking easy when you get used to it." 

"With context, that is a mildly concerning statement."

He gestured towards the landscape in a sharp, sweeping wave. "What else are you gonna fucking do? Lock him the fuck up? Kill the bitch? Even if I told everyone in the entire god damned SMP what happened, what could they even do? He has this place wrapped around his stupid fucking finger. Even if they beat the shit out of him, what does that do? Fucking hell. He'll just turn around and blow the whole fucking place to shit the moment he gets a chance to." 

Every single reason beside the real one left him. He didn't want to admit he was a coward. That he was scared. That he didn't want pity or disgust or any of the other shit aimed at him. That he didn't want them all to know he'd just let Dream pin him down and--

"There has to be something." Ranboo looked down, hands wringing. 

"Just keep him away from Tubbo and stay away from him." 

"I'll--" Ranboo swallowed and nodded. "I'll do my best." 

"Is Tubbo--" He glanced off to the side. "How's he doing?" 

"Okay... He's definitely had better days, but the pressure of leading is-- I don't think he's handling it well."

He huffed. "I could've helped him. If he hadn't let green boy convince him to throw me out of the fucking country." 

"To be fair he should have thrown the both of us out." Ranboo scratched at his cheek. "Thank you by the way, for, uh-- For defending me at the trial." 

"George's house was fucking ugly anyways, we did him a favor." 

Ranboo chuckled. "Burning down his house isn't what I would call a favor, but sure." 

"It was an accident! Not like we went there to burn his house. Just wanted to fuck it up a bit. You were there-- I mean, we tried to put it out and shit, right?" 

"I don't think that mattered to Dream. The fact anything had been done was enough of a reason." 

"Yeah…" 

"You don't-- I mean, you don't think that he--" 

"What?" 

Ranboo's ribs rose and fell, too fast to be normal. "You don't think he used George's house burning down as an excuse to isolate you? Would he even do that?" 

The thought mildly disturbed him, he shrugged to play it off. "Maybe? Not like it matters now either way." 

Ranboo nodded sharply. 

It was quiet, and he could practically hear the gears turning round between Ranboo's ears with how hard the other was thinking. And at least this had gone...well, so far. It's not like Ranboo had asked him to describe in visceral fucking detail how any of it had happened or how often it had or how long it had gone on for or--

"I--" Ranboo started and then snapped his jaw shut with a sharp click. 

"Hm?" He hummed, glancing over. 

"Uh," Ranboo kneaded his hands together, held them close to his chest and stared at his feet. "I'm just-- Just thinking, sorry." 

"Well, think out loud if you need to, big man." 

"It's-- Well, Dream-- He, uhm…" Ranboo cleared his throat, ears falling. "He knows about my problems with my memory... It came up and I still have it--" He flipped open his journal and tapped a page. "I noted him down on the list of people that know. And--" 

He grimaced. "You're starting to think maybe you shouldn't've?" 

"I think so..." Ranboo breathed out a tight airy chuckle. "I use this to keep track of everything that's happened, specifically to me, but sometimes in general. You don't-- Do you think he would take advantage of that?" 

"If he got the fucking chance...probably." 

Ranboo's brow furrowed, his eyes turning away, and he didn't miss the way they unfocused, flicked around, and then turned back to him just as quickly. He didn't miss the way Ranboo's ears fell tight to the sides of his head or the way he hunched forward, claws clung onto the edge of the bench like he might fall off of it. It seemed to melt away just as quickly, with the way his spine straightened back out a moment later as Ranboo turned to him, a small furrow driven between his brows and none of the edging panic that had settled into the tilt of his shoulders. 

He wasn't one hundred percent sure what he had witnessed, but he knew one thing. He needed to make sure Ranboo remembered to stay away from Dream.

"Uh...Can I--" He held out his hand for the journal. 

Ranboo jerked his head to the side, clawed fingers spasming over the cover as he pulled it away and blinked again, shook his head, muttered under his breath, and seemed to realize a hand was still held out towards him as he honed back in on it with pinched eyes. He went to draw his fingers back, guessing Ranboo was sensitive about whoever held the journals (and considering their content he didn't really blame him), but suddenly the press of leather slid over his palm. 

"Sorry, for a second I thought --" Ranboo cut himself off. "Nevermind, uhm-- Here." 

He didn't call him out on any of it, the high note of unease threaded through Ranboo's voice turned him cautious and slow for once as he carefully opened the journal and turned to the latest page. Telegraphing his movements, he held his hand out for the writing utensil somewhere in Ranboo's suit jacket, didn't miss the way Ranboo flinched again, and Tommy curled his fingers tightly around the pencil handed to him. 

A part of him considered reading too far into it, but Ranboo had always been a bit cagey, usually in a more awkward and less flighty way… Still. It-- It wasn't like Ranboo was spilling his guts and telling him what had him nearly jumping out of his skin here, and, with the unspoken mutual understanding that Ranboo wouldn't pry at him either, he didn't pick at it.

Glancing over the page, he noticed a small list of daily events, innocuous and random things, grinned when he saw that Ranboo and Tubbo had tried to hold an impromptu fishing competition with Fundy and it had gone poorly, grimaced at the to-do list when he saw _'meet Dream at the community house tomorrow'_. Yeah, no. He glanced to Ranboo, the half-ender zoned out, eyes turned to the snowy forest and not him. And Ranboo was putting a lot of trust in him here. A lot. But-- He quickly erased the to-do list reminder, and instead wrote _'Visit Tommy again soon.'_

There. Whatever. It was fine. It was better than Ranboo meeting up with Dream fucking anywhere. Even with Tubbo or others in tow. The stinging guilt that settled hot along his shoulders was nothing compared to the thought of Dream lingering around Ranboo, panting and pacing, starved at the sight of a lamb. 

He added a few notes. Wrote ' _Never trust Dream_.' and _'Never be alone with Dream.'_ and _'Make sure Tubbo is never alone with Dream. Actually just keep Dream the fuck away from him completely, fuck that slimy green bitch.'_

There. Good enough. He handed the journal back to Ranboo, neck pricked with sweat as the half-ender read over his additions and edit. Ranboo didn't call him out on the unwarranted changes he had made and he let out his held breath, shoulders falling. 

Ranboo frowned. "I'll have to add these to _Do Not Read_."

"You've got two journals?"

"Yeah. One is for the every day kind of events. One is for…. More important things." 

"Like what kinda important things?" 

"Uhm…" Ranboo shrugged. "Sensitive information, I guess." 

"What like, who likes who on the server? You got like a crush book or something going, Ranboo?" He joked, teeth bared in a grin.

Ranboo chuckled. "No, not exactly." The half-ender grimaced after a moment, thumb rubbing over the cover of his journal. "Do you-- Is it okay if I--" 

"What?" 

"I want to write down what you, uhm-- What was in the letter. Nothing verbatim, of course. Just enough so I don't forget what Dream did. Are you okay with-- Is it okay if I do that?" 

"Yeah, it's fine, big man, it's not a big fucking deal." Even if his throat tightened at the thought of it being written down somewhere else, in another spot besides his head, another little transcription of how he had been fucked up out there in the world. He pulled the letter back out of his pocket. "Actually just-- You can just keep this shit."

"Okay..." Ranboo took it from him like it might burn him. 

"Just so-- Uh, just so I know--" He cleared his throat. "You haven't like, noticed anything fucking weird, right?" 

"Like?" 

"Like, fuck... uh, if Dream hangs around Tubbo more, or if he hangs around you more. If he brings you shit or tries to-- I don't fucking know, like get you to play games with him and weird shit like that." 

"Uhm," Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think so? It's been-- The past few weeks have been-- I have been having a hard time keeping track of things, but I don't remember anything like--" 

Ranboo went rigid, eyes pinched, brows drawn down and he wanted to wave a hand in front of the half-ender's face, make sure he hadn't checked out of this reality or something. But Ranboo shook it off before he could, a small smile tilting up his lips as he hummed. 

"No, actually it's been-- It's been pretty uneventful back home. I haven't noticed anything weird. He doesn't even really hang around us much to be honest." Ranboo shrugged. 

"That's…" He frowned. "Good." 

Ranboo kicked his legs, heels disturbing the snow underfoot, the anxious tension brimming in him seeming to have melted away completely, as he hummed under his breath. The tune was-- 

"Is that Mellohi?" 

"Oh--" Ranboo stopped, head tilted. "I don't actually know. It's just something I heard…" Ranboo's brow furrowed. "...somewhere."

"Fuck, man. I miss that one."

Ranboo avoided looking at him, eyes locked on his shoes. "Yeah, it's… It's a good song."

Ranboo didn't sound a hundred percent certain about that, in fact, he sounded the complete opposite about it actually, but whatever, people had different tastes. He wrinkled his nose at the reminder that Dream might have gotten his hands on his discs while he's been gone.

"Does Dream have my discs by the way?" 

"I'm-- I'm not sure. I can't…" Ranboo narrowed his eyes. "I think I remember-- I remember him having some kind of disc… Or maybe it was Skippy... I can't remember which though. And I think Tubbo had one last time I checked.' 

"Good." He nodded. "I wanted to try and get them back eventually. I don't want that green bitch to have even a single fucking one." 

"That might be a bit difficult." 

He shrugged. "I'll figure something out." 

The jukebox belted out the chirpy little buzz and clicks of the tune slotted within the wooden casing. Scuffing his shoe against the ground, he watched the snow disappear and reveal mud and dead grass below. 

"Hey, is there any way I can still get you letters from fuck all nowhere?" He asked after a moment, glancing over. 

"Not unless you drop them in a chest in L'Manberg when you visit. There isn't exactly a Pony Express between here and there." 

"Wha--?" He blinked. "Pony Express?" 

"Yeah, like the, uhm-- The old mail carrier system. I don't know if it was actual ponies though, I think they just--" 

"Are you two still talking about mail?" Technoblade interrupted, the snow crunching underfoot betraying his return.

Ranboo's shoulders hunched up, almost automatically, the nervous curve to his spine becoming more pronounced. He had gotten used to unwound Ranboo, the less anxious one, it was weird to see him go back to it the second Technoblade made his presence known. 

"Actually, uhm... We were just finishing up. I have to-- I should really be heading back." 

"Hey, uh…" Technoblade squinted. "Didn't you come to my house to try and kill me with the rest of the circus?" 

"Oh--" Ranboo shrank back. "Uhm… yes?" 

"Oh, yeah, now I remember." Technoblade pointed at the half-ender. "You're the idiot who just stood there the whole time." 

"I-- Admittedly, I don't really do well with that kind of thing." 

"The kidnapping people against their will or the execution kind of thing?" Technoblade deadpanned. 

"Both. Definitely don't do well with both." Ranboo cleared his throat. "I, uhm… Well, I kind of got talked into it." 

"Peer pressure?" Technoblade asked. 

"Peer pressure…" Ranboo sighed. 

"See, that, I can relate to." Technoblade jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "Now get off my property." 

"Yup, of course. Right away." Ranboo got to his feet, so quickly he nearly face planted into the snow. 

"Fuck off, Techno, we're still hanging out." 

"I actually need your help with something and the longer he's here the more he'll remember where I live. And I'd rather not have the entire server knowing where my _secret_ base is." 

"Yeah, but--" 

"Notice how I emphasized the secret part there, Tommy? Yeah, I'd like it to stay that way. I made an exception for him. It's already bad enough that Quackity knows. So, uh… It's time for him to go." 

"Can he at least fucking come back?" 

"...Maybe." Technoblade said slowly. 

Ranboo laughed nervously, shuffling off to the side. "I'll-- I'll get going. Thanks for, uhm-- Yeah…"

He waved at Ranboo as the half-ender left, returning his own little wave as he trekked back into the snow and back towards L'Manberg. 

"You're a fucking asshole." 

Technoblade crossed his arms. "And?" 

"Why do you have to be such a fucking dick all the time?" 

Technoblade rolled his eyes up to the sky and sighed. "He can come back... fine. But don't make my cabin a hot spot for teenagers, man. I've already got one walking headache to deal with, I don't need five more." 

He snorted. "Where the fuck am I gonna find five other friends on this piece of shit?" 

"That feels like a self-burn, but it's also just kinda sad." 

"Whatever, fuck you." He hopped to his feet, clicked the jukebox off. "What the hell did you need help with anyway?" 

"I was thinking, uh… Perhaps we could go and check in on the dog army, make sure they haven't started eating each other or something. I didn't exactly leave, uh… A whole lot of food down there." 

"Right now?"

"If you wanna go later we can go make sure the turtles haven't drowned themselves." 

He thought about stepping foot back in L'Manberg right now and grimaced. "Turtles sound better." 

"Turtles it is."

\--

They ended up in L'Manberg the next day though. And it was a bit of a shit show as always. They got the dog army taken care of, nearly got caught by Tubbo in the process, when he tripped and almost smashed face-first through a hive right in front of him. Connor had apparently taken up residence in his old house as well, and he convinced Technoblade to kidnap the blue-onesie wearing little bitch in revenge. They carted him around L'Manberg for a bit, until even that got boring. Connor whined too much to be a good hostage anyways.

There had been no sign of Dream the entire time. That is, until him and Technoblade, invisible potions wearing off and the two of them joking around in the usual banter, stumbled upon the bastard himself, stood at the mouth of the portal that led back to the nether. 

He went rigid immediately, tongue nearly clipped between his teeth as his jaw clacked shut. Technoblade not so subtly passed him no less than five potions and he returned the favor in a frantic pass off that helped ease the tension in his shoulders a bit. Dream didn't say shit the entire time. Just stood there, mask blank, hands in his pockets, slightly slouched, staring down at the two of them. 

"This is a bit awkward, I'm not gonna lie…" Technoblade drawled. 

"Hello, Tommy..." Dream started slowly, all his attention squarely on him, and he knew the bastard was smiling behind his mask. "If I remember correctly, you're not supposed to be here." 

His voice slithered and dragged like nails over his shoulders and he shrugged it off, yanked up the snap of heat at his knuckles and stepped forward, fists balled at his sides. 

"Fuck you, green boy, I do what I want." And he's one hundred percent sure none of that would have left him if Technoblade hadn't been shoulder to shoulder with him. 

Dream hummed. "I thought it was pretty easy… The rules were simple-- Simple enough even you could understand them. You weren't supposed to step foot in L'Manberg." 

He sneered and he hoped Dream couldn't see the way his hands shook or his knees threatened to give out under him. "Yeah, and who's gonna stop me?" 

Dream sighed, and he sounded disappointed and that settled heavy on him, like the pressing weight of palms and-- "Why can't you ever just listen, Tommy?" 

Why the fuck would he listen to this green bitch? Fuck him. "Because you screwed me over, Dream. You--" 

He bit down on the words before they slipped out, eyes darting to Technoblade and back. 

"Tommy..." Dream slid a step forward and he forced himself to not take one back. "I was the only person who was your friend. None of them came to visit you out there, remember? I stuck around though, I was there." 

He wished he hadn't been though. He wished Dream hadn't stuck around. He wished he hadn't fucking-- "You were-- You fucking--" 

"You betrayed _me_ , you know. You hid things from me, you didn't listen to me, you came here-- And I've heard you've been causing problems. I heard you had a _hostage_." 

His lips pulled into a grin even if he wanted to throw up. "Yeah and what the fuck of it, bitch?" 

"Listen--" Dream stepped forward, hand extended. "You're gonna come with me." 

He stuttered, breath shriveling up in his throat. He didn't want to go anywhere with Dream. Certainly the fuck not. Fuck that. Fuck him. Fuck this. But he felt the heel of his shoe leave the stone, his limbs moving forward before he could tell them to stop and--

"Well--" Technoblade stepped between him and Dream and he had to shuffle to the side to peer around the pig's bulk. "That's gonna be a bit of a problem, Dream, 'cause this guy's with me."

Dream hummed. "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, me and him--" Technoblade gestured back towards him. "We're, uh... business partners. We're working for the mutual benefit of each other and I can't you have you taking him away before we finish the job." 

"And if I called in that favor?" Dream asked and he didn't miss the way Technoblade's shoulders drew up at that. 

His stomach dropped, heart on a counterbalance with it as it rocketed up to his throat at the same time, and he choked out a breath, spluttered. "Wh-- What favor? What the fuck are you talking about? What the fuck is he talking about?" 

Technoblade held a hand out. "Not right now, Tommy." 

His hands balled into fists. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck was he even fucking talking about? And talking down to him like that, the pig had some fucking nerve. 

"If you, uh… wanna call it in, then--" Technoblade paused, glancing back at him and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to run or stay and find out what the fuck this meant. 

"Naw..." Dream shook his head after a moment. "I got something else in mind for it." 

"...alright." Technoblade nodded and even if the pig's shoulders untensed by a fraction, like he was relieved somehow, he still wanted to ask what the fuck the two meant.

Technoblade knew Dream had-- Well, he had at least known Dream had hit him, and maybe he didn't know all of it, but that was enough, right? Enough to not be handed over for-- For a fucking _favor._

Dream tilted his head. "And you're sure about this, Techno?" 

Technoblade dipped his chin. "Yeah, he's with me." 

Dream gestured to both of them. "Not exactly the, uh, dynamic duo I expected, but I mean, I'm sure you've found out by now... he has his uses." 

He blanched, face heating, the implications of that lost on Technoblade, but he knew exactly what the fuck Dream was referring to. He stepped forward, jabbed a finger towards him, lips lifted in a snarl. 

"You know what, Dream--" He spit. "Go to hell." 

Dream huffed out a laugh at that, laughed like he was watching a kitten growl for the first time and not like he felt threatened in the slightest, and Tommy hated every second of it. 

Dream waved, a small mocking little two-finger one that made his blood boil. "I'll see you later, Tommy." 

"Fuck you." 

Dream didn't rise to the bait, circled around them, brushing far too close to him, and made his way down the stairs. He didn't take his eyes off of Dream, breathing deep and shaky when he was finally out of sight. And then he laughed, sudden and bursting, grin wide and real and his chest felt light, airy even, stuffed full of cotton instead of rocks. Even if he felt jittery and rattly, like his joints might decide to slide from their sockets.

"Yeah," Technoblade said. "Feels good doesn't it." 

"Yeah it fucking does. Fuck that bitch!" He laughed again, trying his best to keep up with Technoblade as he trailed after him. 

Part of him really wanted to ask about the favor though. About what the hell any of that was. What the fuck it meant. But the exhilaration zipping up and down his limbs was intoxicating. He had stared Dream down and told him to fuck off. He had snarled at the stupid green bastard and he hadn't been hit back because Technoblade had been over his shoulder the whole time. Fuck Dream. Fuck that dumb mask wearing puss-- 

Technoblade cleared his throat. "Uh… So, you're officially a criminal in L'Manberg. How does that feel?" 

"Feels…" He grimaced. "Bit fucking weird." 

"Eh, you'll get used to it." 

He glanced over at Technoblade after a beat of silence, snorting. "' _Business partners'_ , big man? The fuck is our business? We selling fucking candles or something?"

"Shut up."

\--

He tossed a gapple up, watched it flash and glint as it arced through the fingers of sunlight that dappled their way through the curtains, before catching it between his palms and repeating the process. It had been about four days since Ranboo had visited, and he wondered if it was too soon to ask if Ranboo could visit again. It got boring at the cabin sometimes. On days where they didn't have anything big planned or any urgent chores to do he spent his time meandering around, trying to find some way to entertain himself.

After about the thirtieth time he had thrown the gapple at the ceiling Technoblade tossed a sheathed axe his way and told him to make himself useful by going to help collect more firewood. The pig proceeded to spend the whole time making fun of his chopping form, before he eventually stooped to the level of teaching him how to actually swing an axe and not send it glancing off frozen bark and right into his leg. Technoblade was a surprisingly patient, if not a bit dry, teacher. And by the end he felt pretty confident. Less fumbly, sweaty palms and half-hearted swings and more tight-knuckled fingers and an actual solid strike. 

He helped haul the wood back on the sled they brought with them, Technoblade handing him the reins, joking that he needed to get some meat on his bones. And he wasn't fucking puny. It's not his fault Technoblade was built like a fucking shit brick house. Less farm pig and more feral boar if he was being completely honest. 

He tripped over his feet, arms awkwardly pulled behind him, shoulders straining as he pulled at the sled's reigns and he nearly ended up horizontal with the snow as his shoes slipped and slid around in the mud and slush. 

"Okay, okay, now it's just painful. Gimme that." 

The reigns were snatched from his hands before he could protest, Technoblade easily pulling the sled along and he grimaced, flicking off the pig's back and reluctantly trudged along beside him. 

"C'mon, man, this isn't even heavy. You were really having trouble with this? We gotta get you some more protein," Technoblade drawled. 

The cabin loomed closer, close enough he could see Carl in the stable outside, the dance of candlelight and the hearth from the windows. 

"Shut the fuck up, dickhead, I don't need fucking--" 

There was something on the steps. He squinted at it, knew Technoblade spotted it at the same time when the pig made a questioning grunt beside him. His feet froze under him the moment he realized what it was, when the stairs unfolded before him, and the body slumped against them came into harsh focus. 

Ranboo was collapsed, bloody and bruised, monochrome pooled against the steps, legs sprawled out beneath him, head tipped back against the side of the cabin, eyes closed, and for all the world he looked dead. Like his corpse had been dumped at the foot of Technoblade's house, and if it weren't for the shuddery rise and fall of Ranboo's sides, he might have actually thought that was the case.

Tracks of greenish-red blood marked the snow, tell-tale dragging marks furrowed into the banks, as if Ranboo had ended up clawing his way up to the cabin at some point. It reminded him of the way an animal dragged itself to die underneath the porch. 

He prodded at Ranboo's shoulder, grabbed it and shook him when there wasn't a response, shot a wide-eyed look to Technoblade when Ranboo didn't immediately awaken. Technoblade brushed him aside, hoisted Ranboo up, an arm behind his back and under his knees, and carried him inside. Following hot on Technoblade's heels, he tried to figure out what could have happened. Went through all the scenarios in his head, but he couldn't settle on just one. All more terrible than the last.

"Someone explain to me why the heck kids keep showing up to die on my property..." Technoblade sighed, depositing Ranboo next to the hearth. 

While Technoblade handled that, he looked around for a blanket, something to warm Ranboo up some. The fur skin draped over the back of a dining chair would have to do, and he tossed it over him. Only crouched to adjust it when it fell awkwardly. It was weird to see Ranboo conked out like this, all pooled against the ground and limp, when he was usually so carefully composed.

His eyes darted down to where the collar of Ranboo's shirt started, to the peek of green and purpled bruising disappearing underneath, to more pressed in above it. Without thinking, he reached out to poke at them, realized they lined up too much like fingers, and he recoiled a few steps until he bumped into the wall. 

"You, uh... good?" Technoblade grunted from where he had gone to feed wood into the belly of the stove, a pot slotted atop it. 

"I--" He nodded. "I'm fucking good, yeah." 

"Go, uh, grab him a gapple for when he wakes up. I'm gonna make something warm for him to drink when he finally decides to rejoin the living." 

"Not too warm," he muttered. 

"Heh?" 

"He's-- He doesn't fucking like hot drinks. Lukewarm should be good." 

"Good to know..." Technoblade muttered. "You sure you're, uh, good though?"

He nodded, knuckles kneading at his cheek as his eyes flicked over the exposed portions of Ranboo's skin, and picked it apart like a dissection. It was a dark mirror. The darkest of dark mirrors. And he wanted to hurl. 

"Yeah, fine. Never been fucking better," he grit out and meandered his way to the wall of chests, gapple pulled free he--

"Wh--" 

The groan sent him turning on his heel, rushing back to Ranboo's side and crouching beside him. He contemplated backing away for a moment, before red and green eyes focused in on him and widened. 

"Tommy? Why-- Why are you in my house?" Ranboo asked, voice hoarse, and when he swallowed he couldn't help but track the movement back down to the collar of bruises ringing the half-ender's neck.

He grimaced and then changed it to a smile. "Sorry to say, but you're not in your house, big man." 

"Oh--" Ranboo glanced around. "Oh, uhm-- This is--" 

"If I had a nickel for every time a kid ended up nearly dead at my house I'd have two. Which is kinda getting concerning..." Technoblade grumbled from across the room. 

"I--" Ranboo's brow furrowed. "I-- I don't--" He fumbled at his chest and torso, patted his pockets and drew out his journal. 

The thwip of parchment followed, and Tommy waited, still crouched and eyeing each page as it passed. They started out normal, the lines tight and neat, and then they got sloppy, they sprawled over the entire face of the paper, frantic and messy, and his breath hitched at the last page Ranboo stopped on. Flecks of blood clotted the yellowed parchment alongside bright blue-green stains (far too close to the way Ranboo's tears had looked the few times he had ever seen the half-ender's eyes water) and the entire thing eaten up by a very familiar smiley face. 

"What happened?" He asked, and if his jaw clenched, if he bit it out through bared teeth and half a snarl, he didn't really care. 

He had an inkling. He had a terrible little idea. An awful notion that tucked up right beside his ear and crooned. He knew the pattern of those palms, the width of them, the fingers, _everything_. He'd seen those same bruises wrapped around his own neck, and his throat tightened, heart thudding under its cage. Fuck. Fuck. He hadn't fucking stopped him. He hadn't done jack fucking shit and his friend was-- His friend had-- Ranboo had been-- 

"I think Dream did?" Ranboo said finally, shoulders falling. "I-- I have-- There's… There's all these things tangled up in--" Ranboo gestured to his head. "And they don't-- None of it makes any sense. I think some of it's real, I think _most_ of it's real-- But they're-- It's all out of order. It's all--" He flipped through the journal, hunched over it, claws digging and ripping into the parchment. 

He placed his hand over where Ranboo had been about to rip his memories to shreds. "Hey, big man, it's fucking good, it's-- Just breath, okay." 

"Okay--" Ranboo sucked in a breath, closed his eyes. "Okay-- Yeah, I'm-- I'm fine. I'm…" 

"So, uh… what exactly is going on here?" Technoblade drawled, a mug of tea in hand as he wandered over. 

"It's a bit fucking much to explain," he blurted out before Ranboo could say anything. 

The cold dripped and froze down his spine in a steady trickle, his stomach twisted itself so far into a knot it threatened to hunch him over with it. This wasn't how he wanted Technoblade to know any of it. This wasn't how it was supposed to-- Ranboo was never supposed to-- He didn't stop him from getting-- He hadn't stopped Ranboo from getting-- He carded a shaking hand through his hair, a frustrated little growl burbling in his chest. 

"Alright, uh… So there's obviously a lot happening here." Technoblade said, eyes darting between them. "And considering it's walked it's way into my house, I would like to know what I'm dealing with." 

"Uh--" Ranboo's eyes darted to him. 

He sliced a hand back and forth over his throat in a _'dont fucking say shit'_ gesture and Ranboo blinked. 

"Dream r--" 

"What the fuck!" He barked. 

"He has to know, Tommy."

"No, he fucking doesn't, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Tommy, please just let me--" 

"No-- Fuck you, why the fuck--"

"Okay!" Technoblade cut in, hands raised. "Hey, no, see, you two will not do this in my house, alright. Chill. Ranboo, what were you gonna say?" 

Ranboo sighed. "Dream--" 

"Shut the hell up!" He spit, fists clenched, shoulders hiked up.

"When were you going to tell him then? Were you just going to wait forever?" Ranboo asked, a hand thrown out. "Geezus, I-- Tubbo's still back there and I don't even know if-- I wouldn't even know if he's already gotten to him or not." 

"I--" He trembled, shudders snapping up and down his limbs. "I--" 

"If you don't tell him, I will. I'm sorry. I-- I have to… I have to tell him, Tommy." 

"Fuck-- Fuck you-- Fuck this-- Fuck--" He snarled, ears tipped red, blood boiled so high the lid might as well have rattled off. 

He wasn't even sure why he was so pissed. He just knew he had wanted this to happen in his own time and Ranboo was fucking this all up. No, _Dream_ had fucked this all up. Taken the choice to even utter the words right out of his fucking hands. Stripped him of all options all over again and he--

"Fine, but I'm not gonna fucking be here while you explain it." 

Ranboo nodded. "That's… understandable."

"Whatever," he grumbled, walking for the door, even if he wanted to run. Even if he wanted to sprint through it and collapse in the snow and hope it buried him under a drift where he could disappear forever. 

"Wait, Tommy, maybe don't--" 

He didn't stop to listen, he pushed the door wide, slinked out of it, slammed it behind him, the wood clattering against the jamb with a thud and cutting off Technoblade's words. Stumbling down the steps, his composure crumbled like a puppet cut from it's strings and he trembled his way into the snow. The fresh banks sunk him up to his knees and he shivered, sludged his way through them and kept going. He didn't even want to be close to when Technoblade finally knew all of it. Fuck this. He didn't want to even chance hearing any of it. 

He sloshed through the snow, lifted his legs even when he could no longer feel them, when his jeans were soaked and stuck to him, nearly frozen to his skin, when his teeth chattered and his nose stung and his fingers curled, and he buried them in his armpits. He trekked further and further, until snow became ice, until water sloshed at his sneakers, until the throaty belt and crack of ice sheets splitting beneath his feet sent him stumbling back and crouching. 

Panting, he stared at the water. At the low sun casting the water in red hues, a valley of spilled blood draping the horizon. He clenched and unclenched his fists, stared at the reddened tips of his fingers, the slow purpling of his fingernails, watched his breath puff from his mouth like some slithered drake under a mountain. 

He hated Dream. He hated him so fucking much it wasn't even funny. He hated him so fucking much for wrenching this out of his hands and he wasn't even here. He wasn't even here and he had somehow fucked this all up for him again. 

"Fuck..." He buried his face in his hands, the chill of them nearly searing against the heated anger still flaring his cheeks red. " _Fuck._ "

"If I'd known this was a pity party, I'd have brought some cake." 

He jerked his head up and saw nothing. His brow furrowed. If he started fucking hearing shit he'd-- The crackle of snow behind him sent him rigid and wide-eyed, a deer caught in headlights as death hurtled closer. Peeking over his shoulder, his gut fell so fast he nearly threw up with the descent. Throat closed tight, skin turned clammy, the cold chased away for the heart stilling and rousing crash of fear that barreled into him. 

Technoblade wasn't here to back him up this time-- Technoblade wasn't here-- He was all alone-- And Dream was--

"Hey." Dream waved. "Uh… Did you miss me, Tommy?" 

Dream waved like he hadn't done a fucking thing. Like he hadn't ruined his fucking life. Like he was just some guy, just a friend, just an idiot in a mask. A fucking breathless little piece of shit who only ever joked around with his friends and occasionally bombed buildings because he could, and _nothing_ more than that. He grit his teeth, jaw clenched. 

He had seen Dream like a few fucking days ago, but he spoke like he was supposed to be lapping at his fucking heels to see him again and he fucking--

"Not even gonna say hello back? That's a bit cold." Dream shrugged. "Though, I guess… Uh, considering the place you've landed yourself in, maybe you prefer that." 

"Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself fucking talk?" He spit, clambering to his feet, fists balled up. 

Dream laughed. 

"Shut up..." 

He kept laughing and he wanted to break in every single tooth in his skull until he choked on them. 

"Shut up!" 

"You're too fun, Tommy." 

His shoulders hiked up at that, the amused little huffing way Dream said it. He grimaced, toes tensing in his shoes, skin crawling. 

"You make it easy, you know? Pushing your buttons." Dream stepped closer and he stepped back. 

The siren snap of ice cracking stilled his feet and he stared, wide-eyed as Dream slid closer, boots crunching in the frost, until he was sidled up too close, breath puffing in billows of frozen air from under his mask. A hand brushed his shoulder and he flinched back, the deadly pop of ice making him go rigid just as quickly. 

The hand descended back down and it was all he could feel, like it had wrapped around the whole of him and squeezed. "Careful now… Wouldn't want you to fall in, Theseus."

And Dream just thought he was the funniest motherfucker in the world, huh?

"What the fuck do you want?" He grit out, chest rising and falling in flighty breaths. 

"Well…" Dream shrugged. "I came here to see Techno, but uh, looks like I found you here instead... Weird how that works out." 

He curled his lip. Dream said it like he knew he was out here the whole time. And he hated when Dream talked like that; voice all rough and shit. It trickled sickly down his spine. 

"Techno's not here. You can fuck off now. Bye." 

"Isn't it rude to kick a guest out when they've just arrived?"

"You're not a fucking guest, you're a trespasser, bitch boy!" 

Dream hummed, head tilting down and up, in that little flick from head to toe his eyes would do if they weren't hidden. "You've got your teeth back…"

He said it like he was a dog. Like he was some little pup that Dream had muzzled and taught not to bite and his fists trembled at the comparison. 

"See, Tommy... The thing about dogs..." Dream patted his shoulder mockingly and he couldn't pull away from it, if he pulled away he would go plunging into the ice and then he would be even more fucked. "Is that they never quite forget what they learn." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"Maybe you can't teach an old dog new tricks--" The hand slid over his shoulder, round to the scruff of his neck, fingers fisting into the collar of his shirt. "--but it, uh… It never really forgets the ones it knows, does it?" 

"What th--" 

His feet abandoned him, slipped out from under him as Dream yanked him around by the back of his shirt until suddenly he was staring up at the sky, legs sprawled, ice and slush under him. He batted at the hand, scrabbled at the fingers, tried to pry them off as Dream hauled him over the snow, tugged him further away from the frozen sea, into the cover of the forest, and away from the option to just fall back into it, let the cold sap the life from his lips. 

He kicked and spat, snow flurries kicking up in his wake as his shirt got caught up under his arms and under his chin and threatened to choke him, and he wished he wasn't being hauled around like an unruly child. He contemplated slipping out of the garment altogether, abandoning it, but then it would be less than he was willing to put between him and Dream. 

Instead, he hoped, desperately and feverishly, clung onto Dream's wrist like a lifeline, that his shirt didn't wrench itself free from him. The journey went on for too long as frost raked over his skin like teeth, tugging at him and ripping it's nails into his spine and back until he felt bloodied.

With a final twist, he managed to wrench out of Dream's grip and he probably looked feral, limbs sunk down to his elbows in the snow as he half crawled, half stumbled to his feet and yanked his shirt back down to cover him fully. He huffed out a breath, swiped at his lips with the back of his hand, and narrowed his eyes at Dream who still stood, arm extended behind him, fingers curled, as if he was still holding something in his grasp. 

Dream tilted his head back towards him, the mask glinting in the harsh throw of the setting sun.

"Fuck the fuck off! Go back to where you fucking crawled from you-- You dumb green bitch!"

" _Tommy._ " 

His back straightened, spine pulling taut as a bow.

"Do you really want to disappoint me?" 

"I--" He swallowed. "I don't give a fuck." 

"That's not true…" Dream laughed. "You know that's not true." 

"I don't! I don't fucking give a fuck, fuck you!" 

"Really?" Dream asked. "You don't give a _'fuck'_?" Dream tilted his head. "Then what would Technoblade think if he knew everything?" 

He froze. "What-- What the fuck are you on about?" 

"You haven't told him," Dream said, pointing at him. "I know you. You're too, uh--" He snapped his fingers, looking for the right word. " _Prideful_ for that. Like a little angry puppy, chest all puffed out and stuff. You think you're a _'big man'_ don't you? That's cute." 

He grimaced, teeth grinding at the way Dream said cute. 

"What would he think about the fact you didn't even try to put up a fight?" Dream gestured to him with a sharp sweep from head to toe. "Just lie back and think of England, right Tommy?" Dream laughed and shook his head. "You didn't just lie there though... You _participated_." 

"No--" He shook his head. "That's--" 

"And, well…" Dream shrugged, hands shoved back into his pockets. "I hate to be the one to say it, but I think you maybe even participated _enthusiastically_." 

Casual, like he wasn't discussing something that made him want to hurl, to dig at his forearms until he bled out, to bury his head into the snow until he suffocated. 

" I didn't-- That didn't-- I--" Color flooded shame-tinged on his cheekbones, red hot and burning. "You're fucked up. You're-- You're fucked in the head, man..." 

Dream shrugged. "You're the one who never said no." 

"I did! I-- But I--" He furrowed his brow. 

"Did you, Tommy?" 

He did. Didn't he? He did. He was one hundred percent sure he eventually did. He had to of-- He had to of because he hadn't wanted any of that. He hadn't. He-- But every word Dream said drove the spike deeper under his sternum, twisted and dripped white hot in his gut and bent his spine like he was Atlas and the world had suddenly dropped onto his shoulders. He hadn't wanted any of it, he hadn't, but had he-- Did he ever-- He must have said no-- He must have-- Right?

"How am I supposed to know you don't want something if you don't tell me? I thought we had a, uh, pretty open system of communication. Maybe I was wrong..." Dream said it like he was legitimately pouting, like he was saddened by it, and he wanted to tear his hair out at the roots. 

"Fuck. You." 

Dream huffed. "I mean… it was usually the other way around, but--" 

He growled, low and under his breath.

Dream laughed. "There it is! I love when you do that. Do you even know you're doing it or is it like involuntar-" 

He swung at Dream, fist missing his mask by a mile, but it didn't matter, it was the idea he had tried to bite back at all. Dream stepped back, hands still in his pockets, laugh high and wheezing. 

"Aw, man, you nearly got me that time." Dream held his hands up. "Here, here-- I'll stand still. C'mon, try again." 

"Stop fucking with me!" 

Dream hummed. "That's not what you used to say, Tommy." 

He full on snarled at that. "I'll fucking kill you! I'll bash your dumb fucking head in! I'll fucking--" 

"You'll what? C'mon, tell me-- Tell me what you'll do. Tell me all the excruciating little details, I'm all ears." 

"I'll-- I'll--" 

Dream imitated him stuttering and then laughed. "You won't do anything. You're, uh, well… I'll be honest--" His voice dropped, flattening again. "You're soft, Tommy." 

"I'm not-- I'm not fucking soft."

Dream stepped up into his space, quick enough he didn't have time to recoil, quick enough he could only freeze under the hand that cupped the side of his face. He swallowed, the hand against his cheek and jaw searing, and he didn't pull away, he couldn't, he felt the tension drain from his shoulders, his limbs go slack, fingers unclenching, and he didn't-- He wasn't fucking soft-- He wasn't, but he couldn't move, fight draining out of him like Dream had reached in and pulled the plug free of the basin to watch it swirl out into nothing. 

"You're gonna come back to L'Manberg with me." A thumb brushed through the heated track of water slowly freezing to his cheek.

He felt himself start to nod, but then he shook his head, wrenched away, stumbled back until he nearly fell on his ass in the snow. 

"Get out of my fucking head, bitch!" 

Dream sighed. "I really should've dragged you out of that dumb box the second I stepped into Techno's cabin." 

He froze. 

"You think I'm stupid?" Dream asked. "You're not exactly quiet. I heard you trying not to cry in that thing the moment I got there. Like-- Like some little kid scared of the boogeyman." 

"Then why didn't you?" 

"I wanted to see if you'd eventually come crawling back on your own." Dream shrugged. 

"Why would-- Why in the fuck would I ever do that?" 

"I don't know..." Dream paused, huffing out an amused breath. "I mean, you _really_ seemed to like being on your hands and knees before, so I just thought--" 

His fist thudded into the porcelain mask with a crack, his knuckles flared, the ricochet lancing down his arm, and he cradled his hand as he stumbled back. Teeth bared, lip curled up, he finally met Dream's glare with his own, the mask knocked off to the side, one eye narrowed at him through the uncovered space.

Dream straightened the mask back out. "You're not very smart." 

"And you're a fucking prick idiot bastard."

"That one was actually clever. I like it better than being called ' _bitch_ ' a thousand times." 

He let the little growling sound slip from him again, even if Dream chuckled at it. "I'll tear your fucking 'ead off your shoulders." 

"You won't." 

"What? You don't think I can, bitch?" 

"Frankly… I don't think you will. Like I said, you're uh… soft." Dream pinched his fingers together, like there was something between them. "You're all pliable and like-- You're like play-doh, Tommy. Like the more someone plays with you the softer you get, but I've left you alone for too long, so now you're like this-- All annoying and prickly." 

He sneered. "Sorry, I'm not fucking fawning over you and asking you to fuck me or something you fucking _pervert_." 

"Who's more perverted though… the guy who just does what's asked of him, or the stupid little kid that asked for it in the first place?" 

"You! You are! You're the fucking-- You're the fucking adult! You shouldn't have-- I'm not-- I'm just a goddamn k--" His jaw clicked shut before he said it. 

He wasn't a kid. He wasn't. He was a teenager. There was a big difference! He was a big man, not a kid. He wasn't a kid. He wasn't-- But under the scrutiny of Dream he felt five years younger and two feet smaller and--

"You're what, Tommy?" 

"I--" 

"Thought you said you were a big man." Dream said it so mockingly it made his toes curl. "You even wrote that little series. What was the title, uh…" Dream snapped his fingers and then pointed at him. "Something like How to Sex, or whatever." Dream shrugged. "Well... now you have all the material in the world to write that one." 

"Shut the fuck up." 

"For someone who keeps telling me to do that, you, uh-- You sure aren't doing a lot to end the conversation on your end." 

"Fuck off." 

"Yikes... I think you've run out of material there, Tommy." 

"Shut up!" 

Dream sighed. 

He stepped forward at that. This motherfucker had the audacity to sound bored and-- "Sorry for not being the fucking class act you expected to find you fucking pedophi--" 

A hand clapped over his mouth and he was forced to swallow the words back. His eyes darted up to the mask, and if he squinted hard enough he could nearly see through the mesh of the eye holes, see the eyes narrowed back at him.

"I'm tired of listening to you say the same things over and over, Tommy," Dream said, low and dangerous and too close, and the hand covering his mouth dug into his cheeks, blunt nails digging into his skin. 

The other curled over the back of his neck, held him in place, like a lead had been tossed around his throat and pulled tight. He couldn't breath, he couldn't even draw any air into his lungs, his ribs stuck, his feet stuck, his eyes stuck on the mask and he just wanted the hands off of him--

"Are you going to say anything if I let go?" 

He shook his head and he thought his slowly melting brain might slop out of his ears. The hand retreated and he swiped at his mouth, swiped at it hard enough he was afraid he'd split his own lip open. The fingers didn't leave the nape of his neck and he pushed back on his heels, leaned his weight against them, hoping Dream would get the memo to let him go. They tightened instead, thumb moving to press into the frantically thumping pulse point tucked under his jaw. 

Dream leaned close, the mask so close that the puffs of frozen air still slipping out from under the rim tickled over his face. "What are you scared of, Tommy? Aren't we friends?" 

He tried to shake his head, but the hand tightened. 

"We're friends, right?" 

His breaths trickled in and out from the seam of his lips, chest barely moving with each tiny inhale. The nails dug into the sides of his neck, pinching so harshly his jaw slacked and a low whine left him. 

"Right?" Dream asked, and he didn't like the way that he had nearly pressed up against him, loomed over him, and the only saving grace was the mask between him and the rest of Dream. 

He nodded, slowly, cautiously, appeasing and relenting, and hating the way Dream huffed out a satisfied breath. And he knew the bastard was smiling under his mask, knew he was full on showing his teeth, cheeks dimpled, it creasing the corners of his dumb fucking eyes. 

Dream's thumb petted over the side of his neck and he shivered. "You're going to come back to L'Manberg with me."

He didn't want to nod. He really didn't. He wanted Technoblade to melt out of the snow-capped trees, he wanted Phil to appear from the clouds, he wanted anyone to show up in that instant and stop him from having to nod his head. 

Nobody came. 

He jerked his chin down, the best he could manage. And it may have been snowing, it may have been the thick of winter, it may have been colder than a witch's tit out, but he felt like he was burning up, starting from the hand on his neck down to his toes. 

"See, wasn't that easy?" 

He didn't even warrant that with a reply. He just stared blankly ahead, vision unfocusing as it slipped around the empty face of the mask in front of him, and his fingers numbed, chest spilling out from the hole it felt like Dream had stabbed into it, head filled to the brim with static. Like a tether, he followed the hand where it guided him as it pushed him forward. Nearly pulled along beside Dream, he would have leaned away from the heat pressed along his side as he was walked through the snow, but his limbs felt disconnected, his legs moving automatically, eyelids heavy and face slack. 

Fingers brushed over the back of his ear, settling over the nestle of scar tissue. 

"So, you did take it out..." 

He licked his lips, hands shoved back up under his armpits as the cold started to ache. 

Dream huffed out a small laugh as he ran his finger along the crease of his ear, down and up, to settle back on the small scar. "Does Techno know you don't have one?" 

He shivered, chin tucked close to his chest as his shoulders hunched and teeth chattered from more than the cold.

"Afraid he'd just force you to get another implant shoved in?" Dream asked, fingers tapping over the side of his neck. "C'mon, you were so talkative before...what's got you quiet now?"

"I didn't want you to ever talk to me again so I ripped it out, dickhead," he muttered, lips numb. 

The mask brushed over the shell of his ear as Dream stooped close. "What? Don't like me being in your ear?" 

He hunched away from him, wrapped his arms tighter around himself, and tried not to think about the dread dragging his feet down into the snow. A finger flicked at his ear and he flinched away from it, flinched harder at the laugh that followed, and tried not to stumble over his own two feet. 

He really wished Dream didn't have to make this harder than it already was. The hand clapped over the back of his neck certainly wasn't making the trek any easier, and the way Dream kept fucking with him the whole way towards the nether portal was annoying enough that for a moment he forgot why he was even terrified until he was staring down the swirls of amethyst. 

"Ladies first." Dream released his hold on him and he rubbed at his neck, kept it covered and leaned away from the bastard.

"I'm not a fucking lady, dick." 

Dream shrugged. "Could have fooled me with how much you bitch and whine." 

He really hated every time Dream cursed. It wasn't natural from him. And he glanced back, across the expanse of snow, and he wondered whether Ranboo had already finished telling Technoblade everything, if the two were wandering around looking for him now. Wondered if they knew Dream was even here, with him. If they knew he was stood on the precipice of a cliff, the crash of the sea a step away and the jagged rocks below a grinning wolf's maw that threatened to devour him. 

"I don't have all day, Tommy." 

"Shut up, I'm fucking--" 

"You're stalling. Now…" Dream pushed his shoulder. "Go." 

He stumbled forward, catching himself on the obsidian border of the portal. He needed to stall a bit longer. If he just-- If he could just buy more time then Technoblade would be here. He'd stop Dream. He'd stop this. He'd-- 

Hands shoved his shoulders and he fell, palms first into the portal, nearly vomited at the tumbling flip of crashing into the nether, the heated stone under his hands and knees sent him scrambling to his feet and blinking against the ash-stained air. A fist balled into the scruff of his shirt and hoisted him along. 

He managed to keep his feet under him, tripping and fumbling his way alongside Dream as he was hauled across the cobble and obsidian path, over the netherack, and he glanced over his shoulder, tried to catch a glimpse of anyone coming for him through the portal he had been shoved into. There was nothing. His stomach fell, his tongue heavy, heart lodged in his throat as his eyes pricked. 

They all left him again. It always ended like this. They always fucking left him. They always ended up leaving him. And it was always just Dream. All he ever fucking had was Dream-- 

The portal to L'Manberg loomed before him, menacing and massive compared to the one that led to the snow. He pulled against the hand twisted into his shirt, pushed at Dream and tried to shove out of his grip. Dream finally let him go and he backed up a pace, fists held up. 

"You're still on about this?" Dream sighed. "You have to know it's useless at this point. They're not coming for you." A hand snagged his wrist and dragged him close. "Nothing good ever happens to heroes. Isn't that what Techno said? He's not going to save you, Tommy." 

"You don't fucking know that-- He'll fucking be here any second, you'll see-- He'll--" 

"No, no, no," Dream laughed. "You don't understand. Do you remember what he said at the portal?" 

The favor. The fucking favor. The whatever the fuck the two had hinted at. His eyes widened, his feet losing their fight and his limbs going slack. Did he-- Did he fucking-- No, he wouldn't have-- He was more than just a favor. He was more than just some fucking favor. He was-- 

"Oh," Dream said. "Oh, no. You actually thought he--" Dream laughed. "You thought he cared about you?" 

The way his eyes burned, the corners of them swelling with water, made him feel fucking stupid. The sharp sting under his sternum made him feel even fucking stupider. 

"You're an idiot, Tommy." Dream tightened his hold on his wrist. "When the hell has Technoblade ever cared about anything besides Phil and taking down L'Manberg? Why would he ever care about _you_?" 

He tried to tug out of Dream's grasp."He-- No, that's not-- He wouldn't--" 

"Oh, but he would..." Dream tapped behind his own ear. "All it took was one call and he sold you out like you were _nothing_." 

"No--" That wasn't true-- It wasn't true-- It couldn't be-- Technoblade wouldn't do that to him. He wouldn't-- But-- What if-- 

Dream sighed. "Listen, Tommy... when are you gonna realize that no one here, not even Tubbo, actually cares about you?" 

He managed to wrench his arm out of Dream's grip and clutched his hands tight to his chest. "Ranboo--" 

"Jesus christ, Ranboo can't even remember half of his day. The only reason he cares about you is because his little book tells him to. All it would take is one page being removed and suddenly-- Oh, no. No more Tommy." 

"His memory isn't that bad-- It's not that fucking bad, what the fuck are you--" 

"Well.... I certainly didn't help the mess up there, I'll admit." Dream tapped his temple. "You'd, uh… Let's just say you'd be surprised how much he can forget the more you play around up there." 

He wanted to throw up. It was one thing to remember all of this shit. To always fucking know it had happened. But he can't imagine how much shit, how many fucking little instances and little things Dream had done and erased from Ranboo, like he was grinding down and repressing a record. It was--

"You're fucked up." He snarled. "Like you're proper fucked the fuck up! What the fuck?" 

Dream shrugged. "Sure." 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He spluttered. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" 

Dream didn't even grace him with an answer; he grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him towards the portal. Digging his heels in, he tried to delay the inevitable. His sneakers caught on the lip of the obsidian ring, Dream already mostly stepped through it, the gloved hand still fisted in his shirt all that remained. He glanced over his shoulder again, hoping to see anything before the nether melted into violent violets, but there was nothing, and he blinked-- 

L'Manberg sprawled before him. He wasn't even sure why Dream was dragging him back here. He wasn't even sure what the fuck that would accomplish, but at least it wasn't Logsted. At least it wasn't his tent. Or the cot. Or any of that shit. 

He hoped, maybe, against all odds, upon hope of hopes, that someone would meander by, see Dream manhandling him by the collar of his shirt, ask what was happening, maybe even stop this. But there was no one. The country was void of life somehow. And it was a whole fucking country, but it seemed like everyone had decided to fuck off all at once. 

"If you're looking for them, they're at the festival games by the docks... That's not where we're going." 

"Where--" 

"C'mon." 

He was tugged along, humiliatingly, like a dog on a leash down the steps, Dream didn't even look back at him, and he hated how Dream knew he wasn't going to even try anything. Hated the fact he knew he had given up and just watched his feet. Nobody was coming for him. They had left him again. He might as well just follow. 

Something loomed ahead of them when he finally glanced up, water climbed into the sky in towers that ringed in what could have been a mockery of a coliseum. And he was pretty sure that a community house was supposed to be there. There was supposed to be something there. There used to be something there. The air reeked of dynamite, of TNT, of ignited blasting powder and the stink of wood burnt by fire and bloated by water. 

"What the fuck happ--" 

Dream dragged him closer, until he was ankle deep in the water, the lake lapping at his heels, until he was knee deep, until his feet stumbled over the broken remains of the dock that led into the twisted corpse of a house. They pushed past the remaining door jamb, somehow standing stalwart among the ruin, the rest of the place broken into jagged fingers that cupped up against the sky and closed them off from view. He swiveled his head to take in all the wreckage. 

"I--" 

"I'm going to tell them you did this." Dream explained, nonchalantly, like that made all the sense in the world. 

"Why the fuck would I-- How in the fuck would I even-- What the fuck?"

"You blew up the community house, Tommy." Dream said, crossing his arms, and the conviction in his voice was too real.

"I didn't!"

"Then who did?" 

"I don't fucking know! You! You probably did this, fucking dickhead! Why the fuck would you drag me here just to show me this fucking bullshit?" 

"Tommy?" 

He stiffened, shoulders hiking up, he glanced over to see Tubbo lingered at the entrance to the scattered bones of the house. 

"Tubbo?" 

"What are you-- How are you-- What's going on?" Tubbo blinked and rubbed at his eyes like he couldn't fathom what he was seeing.

"Tommy decided to blow up the community house. I caught him trying to leave," Dream said.

Tubbo's brow furrowed, his jaw clenching.

"Tubbo, man, listen, Dream he's-- He's fucking pinning this on me! I didn't do dick fucking all!" 

Dream rounded back towards Tubbo, stood behind him, just over his shoulder, and tilted his head. And he hated how close Dream was to Tubbo, hated how all it would take is for Dream to reach out and he could just touch him and-- 

"Tommy, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! That's what I'm trying to tell you!" He pointed at Dream. "He fucking-- He literally dragged me here and fucking--" 

"Why would Dream blow up his own house? That doesn't even make any sense." Tubbo asked and he didn't have a good answer. 

His words died in his throat, shriveled up and sat there and he looked between Dream and Tubbo and he felt like the world stood against him. 

"Why do you always have to be so selfish?" Tubbo asked.

"Selfish? What the hell are you on about?" 

"You never can just do one thing for me. You were supposed to stay out of L'Manberg, out of here, and you came back in and did this. Why couldn't you even do this one thing for me, Tommy?" 

He spluttered. "I didn't do anything! Why don't you believe me? Tubbo, why--" 

Tubbo's brows pinched. "You couldn't even listen to me when I needed you to, Tommy, so why should I listen to you now?" 

"Because you're my best fucking friend. You're literally my best fucking friend, Tubbo. You're--" 

"You care more about plastic discs than me. You even said it. You said they were the only thing that you cared about…" 

"I didn't--" He had though. In that confrontation with Dream, in the bullshit that started all of this, the catalyst in this fucked up little reaction. "Tubbo, look, man, the discs are--" 

"I don't care about the discs!" 

"I know, Tubbo, big man, listen--" 

"No, I'm-- I'm done listening. I'm-- You can't keep doing this stuff. Your actions have actual consequences. You understand that, right?" 

"Yeah, of fucking course, but listen, Tubbo, I swear on my fucking life, I swear on the fucking discs that I didn't do this!" 

And he hadn't realized it. He hadn't looked up, but he noticed the shadows peppering the ring around them. Glancing up he saw more of them, more of his friends, or at least people he used to think were his friends. All standing atop the walls of water and debris, all staring down at him. His shoulders hiked up under the scrutiny, face reddening as he honed in on Dream and lifted his lip in a grimace. 

"Do you have proof you didn't?" Dream asked. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you have proof I fucking did?" 

Dream pulled out a book, a leather bound journal, similar to the one Ranboo carried, a caution-yellow rectangle pasted to the front said _Do Not Read_. It flipped open with the scratch of parchment, a gloved hand finding the page it wanted with a sharp thwip. 

_"'Tommy told me he plans to blow up the community house as a way to get back at Dream. He plans to slowly plant TNT in the walls and under the house and detonate it the day of the festival. He asked if I wanted to help him. I declined.'"_ Dream read, cold and clinical, nearly lazily.

"Who's-- Who's fucking journal is that?" 

Dream closed it, held it up, and tapped the spine with his finger. "Ranboo's." 

"Why do you have his--" 

He knew Dream was smirking under the mask, he knew he was even if he couldn't see it. Fuck him. Fuck this smug fucking rat little dickhole bastard ass bitch--

"You tried to get Ranboo to help you again? What is wrong with you, Tommy?" Tubbo asked and he turned his attention back to him. 

"That's-- That's not even-- I haven't spoken to Ranboo since like four fucking days ago and before then I didn't speak to him at all! He thought I was fucking dead! _You_ thought I was fucking dead, Tubbo!" 

"You're obviously not." 

"Yeah, I know, dick." 

Tubbo steeled his jaw, turned on his heel to face Dream and-- "It's your place that got blown up… so, I think you should have authority in deciding the appropriate punishment." 

He shook his head, dread brimming over as he realized Dream's entire motivation for this. "Tubbo, please don't-- Please--" 

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking. Fuck. 

"I would say death…" Dream hummed. "But that's boring and overused. And not like you'll learn anything from that." Dream tapped at his mask, like he hadn't already thought of this shit for days and weeks and fucking ever since Tommy ran away and-- "I think, maybe… I could use a helping hand in rebuilding, of course. And when you're done…" He felt Dream's eyes bore into him even from where the mask concealed them. "Forced exile, indefinitely, without review… no visitation from or contact with anyone in L'Manberg and the _rest_ of the SMP. And I'll be your warden, of course." 

Tubbo nodded. He felt his fists shake. 

"Tommy, you'll help Dream rebuild and when you're done with that you'll--" 

"I fucking heard him, I'm not fucking deaf!" He snarled. "But what? That's it then? You're just going to-- You're just going to throw me back out there. I wasn't even-- I wasn't even living there anymore. I was-- I-- Why, Tubbo?" 

"Because you never listen." 

"You don't even--" He swallowed against the words climbing up his throat. "You don't even know what he did to me! He's one fucked up motherfucker and you don't even know it..." 

"Tommy, I--" Tubbo glanced between him and Dream, eyes pinched. "A punishment is a punishment and I'm sorry..." 

He wanted to get up in Tubbo's face, scream at him, yell at him, shout at him that Dream had fucking raped him and he'd do it again and again and again until he probably fucking died and he couldn't fucking-- He--

Dream's hand fell on the back of his neck, fingers curled over it, and nobody moved to stop him, nobody leapt to his defense, nobody pulled a sword or jumped up or said stop or swooped in to help him and he-- Fuck all of them. Fuck them. Fuck. He fucking-- Dream was right. He had been right. None of them gave a shit about him. None of them ever gave a fucking shit about him. 

It was one blink and then another and he was no longer surrounded by the wreckage of the community house, by everyone staring into the back of his neck, and instead he was being marched along L'Manberg. And he wondered if this is how the unfortunate conquests of battles felt, tacked behind horses as they were forced to stumble around through the streets, wrists bound, knowing full well, that at the end of the ride, there was anything but a pleasant meal and a warm bed waiting for them. 

He pressed his lips thin, jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. He didn't really want to get-- He didn't want Dream to-- He didn't want it to happen again. His vision filmed. Maybe it was too much to ask from the universe for it to not happen again. Maybe it was stupid of him to even ask that much of it...

"Are you-- Are you crying?" Dream asked. 

He swiped frantically at his eyes, sniffed and tried to compose himself. 

"Jesus, Tommy, you act like I killed your puppy or something. I could have told them to kill you, you know?" Dream said. "This isn't even that bad. You've already lived this, it's not like it'll be that hard to get into the routine again." 

The heat gathered at the corner of his eyes once more, unbidden and uninvited. 

"C'mon, it's really not that bad. Remember? We had fun before, right? We can again. Look, uh… first time it rains, I'll let you use my trident, does that sound fair?" 

He shook his head, brows drawn down and eyes pinched. He didn't want any of that shit. He wanted to go back to Technoblade's cabin. He wanted to go _home_.

"Hey..." Hands cupped the sides of his face, tilted his face up from where he had tried to tuck his chin to his chest. "I'm not the bad guy here. It's for your own good, remember?" 

"How--" 

"Tubbo said it back there. You never listen. I'm just… helping you learn how." 

"I don't want your help--" He brushed the hands off his face, taking a step back. "I don't want to-- I don't want--" 

Dream sidled back up into his space and ruffled his hair. "Don't want what?" 

His face colored. "I don't want to--" 

"Want to…?" Dream parroted, like he didn't know what the fuck he was trying to say. 

_'I don't want to fucking sleep with you._ ' He couldn't say it. Not here. Not in the middle of L'Manberg, not when someone could hear him. Even if it was barren, the country hollowed out, everyone probably still gathered where they had all come to watch him be humiliated and sentenced to another shitty exile. 

"Let's go, Tommy..." Dream tugged him along. 

He dropped his head, watched his feet eat up the ground as he marched along, more of a dead-legged shuffle, but Dream didn't force him to go faster. He had already won here. This was a victory lap for him. Bile pushed up his throat and he swallowed it back. He blinked and the grass beneath his feet was different, he looked up, the beach-- the fucking awful disgusting terrible little fucking beach-- sprawled before him. 

"Welcome home," Dream said, gesturing to the still bombed out landscape. 

"You couldn't even fix it up?" He bit out, staring at the hole where his tent used to be. 

"No, where's the fun in that? Now you can rebuild it all over again." 

"You're fucking sick." 

Dream huffed out a laugh. "Better, uh... Better start building a tent. Nightfall won't hold off forever." 

"You could help." 

Dream settled onto an outcropping, one leg tucked up for him to rest his chin on, the other dangling. "Nope." 

"Fucking dickhead." 

Dream laughed. "Missed your charming sense of humor while you were gone. Ranboo's fun and all, but he doesn't have the same--" Dream waved a hand. " _Bark_." 

The way he said fun. The way he just so casually admitted to it, like he was just a cat toying with a mouse, like it was some big fucked up game to him, like he hadn't raped his friend and then made sure he forgot over and over. Like Tommy hadn't seen the brusies on Ranboo, like he hadn't known exactly what the fuck that felt like-- 

"Shut the fuck up about him. Don't even say his fucking name." 

"Sore spot? What're you jealous?" Dream pressed a hand to his sternum. "Aw, I'm flattered, Tommy." 

"I fucking-- _Fuck you_." 

"Mm, maybe later..." Dream shrugged. 

He spluttered, face red, heart thudding under his sternum, nausea threatening to boil over, and Dream laughed, high and wheezing, and he wanted to kick dirt at him, throw a rock at his stupid skull, tackle him and sink his fists into that mask until the laughter stopped. Instead, he turned to the ruined crater where his tent used to be and clambered his way into it. The canvas of the tent hadn't survived much, but parts of it were still there. He could cobble something together for the night at least. He would need torches though, to keep the mobs off.

And if he asked Dream, the dickhead would probably make him pay for it, and he would rather not have to deal with that at fucking all. The more he could stall actually building any structurally sound place to stay, the more he could delay the inevitable.

Somehow, the fucking cot, of all things, managed to make it out of the TNT blasts with only scorch marks and the frame slightly warping, rain and the elements having discolored it with all the time it spent on its own, but otherwise functional. He kicked it farther into the hole where it slid across slag and rubble and nestled under an alcove. Good enough. He wasn't about to pick it the fuck up. 

Salvaging what else he could, he tossed it all back out of the crater and pulled himself out with it. Dream still sat on his perch, heel kicking back against the dirt, fingers tapping against his leg. And at least he still had his mask on. If he had taken that shit off, he might have really fucking lost it. Huffing out a breath, he turned to trying to cobble together a tent from the remains of one. It turned out about as shitty as his first attempts in exile. But functional at least. Tall enough to sort of stand comfortably under it and look up through the tattered holes of the canvas at the dying sunset. 

The quicker day twisted into night the more the dread gnawed at his spine, ants crawling and marching around his insides and turning his hands jittery. His fingers slipped while adjusting one of the tie downs, the rope hissing out of his hand, burning his palm on its way to thwack against the canvas and flap against it. He grit his teeth, palpitated at the welt of red striped across his skin.

The soft tutting over his shoulder had him reflexively turning into Dream's hands, the man cupping his palms around his own before he could retreat. "That looks bad, shoulda been more careful."

Dream prodded at it and he wasn't exactly fucking helpful about it. He went to wrench his hand back when fingers pinched at the raw skin and pulled. The yelp that left him could only be called embarrassing. 

"What the hell!" He barked, snatching it back. 

"What? Did you think I was gonna kiss it better or something? Don't be stupid. It's just a little friction burn. Deal with it." Dream said, straightening back up, surveying the tent in a slow tilt of his mask. "Well…. It's real bad, but I guess it works." 

"There's no fucking bed." He grit out, pointedly, with all the venom he could lace behind it. 

Dream shrugged. "I'm not picky." 

And he-- Yeah, that _sucked_. Everything about that statement fucking sucked. He wasn't-- If he was going to have to deal with this-- He wasn't going to get fucked into the fucking dirt like a fucking-- 

"I'm not going to sleep on the ground like a fucking--" He spluttered. "Like a fucking animal!" 

"Well… then I'd figure something out. Sun sets soon." Dream pointed to the horizon. 

He flicked him off, actually meant it, held it until he wandered back to the edge of the pit the TNT had made and peered down into it. He could grab the cot. It was down there, it was perfectly fine. But he-- He cringed. That thing had already been used too much. It was something better off left to rot and burn. 

The sift of grass and the press of boots into earth creeped up behind him, a hand slithered it's way up his shoulder, like some fucked up Garden of Eden allegory, the snake the hand that tilted his chin back towards Dream, and the apple the words that fell from his mouth.

"Grab the cot, Tommy." 

He nodded, jaw clenched, muscles wound so tight he thought they might spring off his skeleton like snapping rubberbands. Slipping on slag, he fell into the pit, landed on his ass at the bottom, and glared up at Dream who just watched. Getting to his feet, he dusted off his jeans, looked around for where he had stashed the stupid thing. It nestled up right where he left it, and in a better world it would have spontaneously combusted the moment he touched it, taking him along with it. 

But he lived in a shitty world. One where Dream waited at the edge of some fucked up Lazarus pit that he kept crawling his way out of and never dying in, no matter how much he wanted to. And somehow he was really actually and truly back here. Nothing had faded into the sepia of a nightmare or the waver of a memory. It was real. 

The hand that latched onto his forearm and helped drag him up was real, the Dream that patted him on the back and let it linger was real, the tent he had cobbled together, the folded up cot in his arms, that shit was all real too. It was all very fucking real. 

The sunset winked out with the last fades of purples and his heart sank with it, thudding in an ill tempo lodged in his back, in his side, in his throat, anywhere but his chest. He unfurled the cot in the tent, let it sit like the main event of an art exhibition, one labeled _Please God I Never Ever Wanted to Fucking Be Back_ and in tiny fine print on the side of the cot itself, _I think I lost my virginity here_. Something real fucked up like that. Fucked up enough it really captured how absolutely not okay he was. 

"We need fucking torches…." He muttered, staring at the empty space between the wall of the tent and the cot, knowing he'd eventually be throwing all his thoughts down there soon. 

Dream hummed, stepped up close behind him, hand resting on the side of his neck, fingers dancing over the tap of his pulse. "And what do you think torches cost?" 

He sighed. "I don't fucking know. What the fuck do you even want? Need me to fucking--" He swallowed back the bile. "Need me to fucking like--" 

"What?" 

"Fucking, uh-- Fucking, I don't-- I don't know... Jerk you off or something…" He mumbled and he really had to try not to throw up. 

Dream laughed, right in his ear, and he recoiled from it. "Jesus, no, what the hell, Tommy?" 

"Don't act like I'm the fucking--" He twisted out from under Dream's hands, jabbing a finger at him. "Fuck off, you're the fucking piece of shit who--" 

"Who what?" Dream tilted his head. 

"You fucking-- Last time I was here-- You--" 

"What did I do, Tommy?" 

"You--" 

Dream carded a hand through Tommy's hair, twisted his fingers in the locks and twirled at the ones that fell out of place, before brushing a strand behind his ear and cupping the side of his face. "Say it." 

"You ra--" He cut himself off, teeth grit.

"I _what_?" 

He shook his head, the word locked so tight behind his teeth he thought it might kill him. 

"If you can't even say it, then is that what it was?" Dream asked. "Are you even sure that's what it was? Are you one hundred percent sure?" 

"Yes! Yes, I'm fucking sure! I'm--" 

Dream shrugged. "Okay… Then say it. Tell me what I did." 

"You--" It caught up on his tongue and he tripped over it. He huffed out a sharp breath. "You--" 

"' _I, I--'_ I hear a lot of you stuttering, but none of what you think happened." 

"I don't _think_ it happened. It did. It fucking did! You-- It was on that fucking-- On that thing right fucking there--" He pointed to the cot and his skin crawled. 

"Then just say it." 

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck-- "You raped m--" 

A hand covered his mouth, fingers dug so hard into his face he whined. 

"Did I?" Dream leaned close, pulled his mask off and let it clatter to the dirt floor so they were all but nose to nose. He hated his eyes, he fucking hated seeing his fucking eyes, god he-- "Did I do that, Tommy? Are you sure you didn't ask me to? Are you sure you didn't _beg_ me to?" 

He tried to shake his head, but he couldn't move. 

"Remember after the beach party? Remember that? You kissed me first. I was just gonna let you go for the day, you seemed real messed up about all your friends not showing up. So, I thought, hey, this poor kid, actually I'll let him alone for a bit, let him have his thoughts and stuff, and you grabbed me before I could leave. You did that... That was _you_ , Tommy." 

His eyes pinched, feverish and hot where water gathered across his lashes. 

"How do you even know it wasn't you just asking me every time? Your memory might not be as bad as Ranboo's, but you sure have a way of twisting things up in your head. I mean, jesus, Tommy-- You still think Technoblade betrayed you. He did what he told you he was going to do all along, stop the government, and you turned around and spit on him the moment you had even an ounce of power after Schlatt died." 

He muffled a sob against the hand holding his mouth shut. 

"And don't even get me started on Tubbo. You keep throwing him under the bus, for what, some-- Some discs, some pieces of plastic? That's pathetic. You're pathetic." 

He wanted to curl up in a ball, he wanted the disgusting soot-stained glove off his mouth and away from him and-- 

"You could have jumped, you know? You certainly wouldn't be back here if you had. And for a second I thought maybe you did, but no. You're a coward, Tommy. You wouldn't do that. You couldn't, even if you wanted to." 

Dream's eyes burrowed into him, and it felt like they were peeling back every layer of skin, digging fingers into every open wound and pulling free the festering pus. 

"I'm going to let you go and I'm going to give you some torches, and in exchange, you're going to kiss me-- Right here." Dream tapped his own cheek. "That's it. That's all I'm asking for here... Consider it a generous offer." Dream wrenched his hand back as he finished. 

He stumbled back, clutching at his jaw, the beginnings of bruising in the shape of fingertips pressed into his face. Rubbing at them he glared at Dream, glared at the smug little tilt to his lips, the stupid fucking way he watched every single movement he made, eyelids pulled down enough he looked disinterested, but he knew they were way more than just fucking interested. 

"Well...?" Dream held his hands up. 

The little frustrated growl rumbled in his throat as he scrubbed at his cheeks and shuffled on his feet. Was it worth it? It wasn't much compared to anything else that had ever been asked of him, but fuck, was it worth it? Initiating this whole thing… Was it worth a couple torches when he could just let a mob devour him alive? Either way, he was ending up between something's teeth tonight. And he would rather it be the thing that actually killed him, not the thing that would chew on him and spit him out with a grin.

Dream still waited and he wanted to die. He wanted the earth to open up, swallow him whole, suffocate him, smash him to tiny bits amongst tons of rock. He jabbed the toe of his sneaker against the dirt and wondered why the fuck he deserved any of this. He balled his fists into the hem of his shirt, shuffled forward, and he wondered what the fuck he had done to deserve this. He leaned up on his toes, heels leaving the ground, as he went to peck Dream on the cheek, and he wanted to shrivel up and disappear. 

A hand grabbed his chin, tilted his head at the last second and it was pliable lips beneath his and he should have known. He was an idiot. It always went like this. He fucking should have known. Fingers wrapped themselves around the side of his neck, teeth dragging at his bottom lip and he wished he had jumped. He should have fucking jumped for the ground not the water. God, he wished he had fallen skull first against the earth. The hand that hiked up his shirt made him wish he had taken one of the knives from Technoblade's kitchen and driven it so far into the back of his skull he could only drool blood. The nails that raked over the skin of his stomach and up to splay along his ribs made him wish he had bashed his head against the floor of the basement and left his pulped body for Technoblade to find. 

He stifled a sob against the mouth locked over his and he wanted to crumple to the floor, but his knees had clogged up and-- 

"Dream." 

He had never been pushed away by Dream before, but there was a first time for everything he supposed, as he fell ass first into the dirt. He immediately scrubbed at his lips so hard he tasted blood and muffled the small whine trying to leave him against the back of his hand. Wide eyes turned to the figure at the entrance of the tent, silhouetted by the torch carried in their hands, gray wings splayed behind them like an angel, and he had to wonder if maybe something did actually hear his prayers. 

"Uh--" Dream shuffled back. "Oh… Hey, Phil." 

"Don't play fuckin' stupid, mate," Phil said, extending a hand. "Tommy, c'mere." 

He blinked, ribs still falling and rising quickly, cheeks sticky with fresh tears, nose choked up with snot. Stumbling to his feet he made a wide arc around Dream, who not so subtly inched his way back towards his mask on the floor. Phil grabbed his arm when he got within range, not bruising or breaking or harsh, just enough to seemingly guide him, until he had to peer around one of the flared out wings blocking his view. 

"Look, Phil, I--" 

"Ranboo told us." 

"And you believed him? You know his head is the equivalent of a colander, right?" Dream laughed and stooped down slowly, fingers blindly grasping for his mask. 

"I also walked in on you--" Phil paused. "On that." 

Dream straightened back up, slipped the mask on, and Tommy felt his ribs expand easier, breathes not so tight and blocked up in his chest. 

"What do you think you saw?" Dream tilted his head.

"I'm not-- I'm not gonna say it." 

"Shame..." Dream shrugged and he hated the smug nonchalance of that, as if he hadn't gotten caught red fucking handed. 

And maybe this felt like if he had called on his parents to pick his battles for him, but he didn't really care. He didn't really fucking care, because he had never seen Dream uneasy before, never seen him take a half-step back, shoulders hunched like that and-- 

"Boo." 

Dream nearly jumped from his skin with the way he turned on his heel to see Technoblade entering the opposite side of the tent. 

"Oh, so the whole calvary's here." Dream said slowly, hands inching towards the knife on his belt. 

"I wasn't gonna miss this," Technoblade drawled, axe rested against his shoulder. 

"You kill me, and I'll just come back. I won't make it easy the second time." 

"We're not gonna kill you, naw. No, I got something else for you." Technoblade backed up, held the flap of the tent open, and gestured Dream out. 

Phil turned to him, wings blocking everything from view temporarily as the man seemed to look over him, assessing the situation. 

"I'm fucking fine…" He grumbled. 

"As long as you're okay..." Phil nodded and then rubbed at the back of his neck. "Fuck, sorry we didn't come sooner, we would have, and we probably should have, but we-- Well, you should see for yourself." 

He followed the outstretched hand, turning around, wandering the few steps out of the tent to see the faint cast of torchlight reflecting off the waves. There were people, gathered on the sand, and in a weird way it's how the beach party he had planned should have looked, but this definitely wasn't a beach party. 

"Is that--" 

"I suppose... it's a lot of them at least. Stragglers who didn't wanna come or couldn't are aware of the situation."

His heart thudded against his sternum. "So… they all know." 

"The bare minimum. No details. Not even about you. Just Ranboo. He decided people should know and he knew that you weren't as comfortable sharing. Though I-- Unfortunately, people draw their own conclusions, ya know?" 

"What are you gonna fucking do to him?" 

Phil's eyes narrowed. "We're going to ruin every single fuckin' friendship and connection he ever pretended to have, we're gonna utilize that prison he had Sam built to its fullest extent… and if he happens to get hurt between then and there, I won't say anythin'." 

He opened his mouth, maybe to say something, say anything, understand how it had ended up like this and not with his bare shoulders against that cot and skin against his and--

"He started it, you know." Dream's distant little plea buzzed, annoying in his ear.

"Alright, alright, I'm tired of your yapping. Come on." Technoblade led Dream by the shoulder towards the beach, his wrists bound and trussed behind his back. 

"Don't believe me? Ask him. He'll, uh-- He'll tell you. He--" 

"Are you done?" Technoblade shook Dream by the arm and the man fell silent. 

His heart was lodged up between his ears for how hard his blood pounded. He dug his fingers into his arms and hunched his shoulders, and ignored the way Dream didn't, for even a single second, turn away from tracking him even as Technoblade led him to the beach. A wing blocked him from view again and Phil took up the space between them. 

"We can, uh, go if you need to. Techno's got this." 

"I--" He didn't really want to see all his friends like this. 

Shirt still untucked from his jeans, bunched awkwardly and no matter how much he adjusted it he felt like anyone could look at it and tell a hand had been underneath it that wasn't his. His face bruised, the crescent grooves of nails dug into the sides of his neck, the iron tang of his split lip, reddish tint ringing his eyes from crying. Yeah, he probably looked like fresh ass. He would rather sleep face down in a rusty dumpster than face his friends right at this mome-- 

The approach of footsteps sent him hunching, arms wrapping around himself like he could hide the fact hands had been all over him mere minutes ago. 

"Tommy?" 

Phil dropped the curtain of feathers, stepping back. And it was Ranboo, looking better than he had, bruises faded, probably with the help of a gapple, and the half-ender had a slight shine of blue-green at the corner of his eyes. 

"Are you fucking crying, big man?" 

Ranboo chuckled and it left him as half a sob. "I'm just--" He pawed at his face. "Just glad you're okay." 

"Yeah, I'm right as fucking rain on a tin fucking roof." 

Ranboo laughed. "I-- Sure that sounds about right, I guess." 

"So…" He started, rolling his weight to his heels and the balls of his feet and back. "What the fuck happened?" 

"Uh…" Ranboo hesitated. "Sorry, yeah, you didn't have, you know--" Ranboo touched the space behind his own ear. "So, when Techno tried to contact you after we were done talking, he got nothing back. I explained your situation… Not all of it, or even a lot. I-- I didn't want to--" 

"Thanks..." 

"Yeah," Ranboo nodded. "Anyway, so, we checked the forest, because we thought maybe you just got stuck or lost out there or something. No luck though. Uhm, I contacted Tubbo. He told me about--" 

"The fucking kangaroo court bullshit." 

"Yeah, that." Ranboo cleared his throat. "I told him to meet me at the Butcher Army base, you know, and I told him everything I could remember. And uhm, it kind of snowballed from there." 

"Who's idea was it to, uh, do whatever the fuck that is?" 

"Technoblade." 

"He does like his dumb ass greek myths, I guess... The absolute fucking humiliating fall of man, right?" 

Ranboo nodded. "I'm-- I'm just glad we made it in time." 

"Yeah, five more fucking minutes and it woulda been real fucking awkward, let me tell you. Fucking hell." He grimaced and laughed under his breath before he could stop himself. 

Ranboo winced. 

"Shit joke, sorry." 

"It's-- Uhm, it's fine." 

He rubbed the back of his neck. "So's your head feeling better, big man?" 

Ranboo shook his head. "I don't know if it was adrenaline or-- Or fear, but the past few hours have been-- They've been crystal clear." 

"Glad to hear it. I'd still fucking uh--" He mimed writing it down and froze-- "Oh, fuck, shit, shit, wait--" 

His legs carried him down to the beach before he could stop himself. Ranboo's other journal was still in that bastard's possession and he-- He came to a slow stop, sneakers half sunk into the sand, torchlight dancing behind his eyes as he assessed who all had come to this little shit show. Quackity, Ponk, Karl, Connor, Fundy, Jack, Niki, Tubbo, (fuck, he was pissed at him, but a part of him wanted to tackle-hug the idiot into the sand) and even a handful of Dream's cronies and allies were there. Puffy, Sapnap, Punz, Eret, even Callahan-- They weren't turned to him yet, but he could see the sides of some of their faces, watched them as they spoke among themselves or looked to where Technoblade had dragged a squirming Dream up to kneel where the water lapped at the shore. 

He ticked over each of their faces, the furrowed brows stamped into some, the disinterest in others, the lip turning disgust in a few, and he recoiled a step. It felt like he had accidentally stumbled on stage of a performance he didn't even know the title of, let alone the lines to. Tubbo turned towards him, waved, and seemed reluctant to approach, the way his brows fell and mouth titled down, he recognized guilt when he saw it. He waved back, stomach flipping. He'd try and talk to him later… He needed to talk to him--

"Hello, Tommy!" 

And even Ghostbur was here apparently, the ghost drifting in from the sidelines, waving at him way too enthusiastically. He flinched when the greeting drew a few eyes more than he wanted over to him. 

"Uh…" His tongue stuck to the bottom of his jaw and it took real effort to pull it free. "Hey." 

"Were you invited to this party too?" Ghostbur asked, head tilted, hands clasped in front of him. 

He laughed, a stupid little barking wheeze before he could stop himself. "Uh, sure, sure big man. That's-- That's why I'm fucking here, yeah." 

His eyes darted behind Ghostbur, to where Eret had turned to look at him, the sunglasses hiding most of anything he could discern of their thoughts, but he didn't miss the slight frown tilting their lips. Shoulders hiked up, he grit his teeth, fingers clenching into fists. He wished they wouldn't stare. _Just take a fucking picture it'll last longer, dickhead._ Their scrutiny skipped over him finally and Eret turned back to Puffy who also shot him a short glance as well, her own eyes much more open, expressive, the creases of worry and even anger far easier to read. Like an open book. He could tell she was pissed, tell in the way her hands seemed reluctant to uncurl from fists even as she gestured towards Dream and then back towards him. 

He couldn't help the full body flinch that wracked him, knowing she was fucking talking about him, and he was right fucking there, he was right fucking here and they all just-- Why hadn't they fucking even tried to stop it before? Now they were all, gathered around to witness whatever the fuck this was, and they had the-- They had the fucking nerve to look fucking shocked and fucking surprised and-- 

He huffed out a breath. He needed to get Ranboo's journal. He came here for Ranboo's stupid fucking journal. Not these people. 

Shouldering through them, he ignored any barks or mentions of his name, shrugged off a hand that fell on his shoulder and was mildly satisfied when he heard them hiss between their teeth, like they remembered he was made of acid now, all putrid and painful to touch. Noxious and disgusting to look at. 

He nearly tripped face first into the sand as he stumbled free of them, limbs doing their best to tangle up until it was just him and the beach and Dream kneeled in the start of the surf, Technoblade's hand on his shoulder. They were far enough away that the crowd faded into background noise, lost to the crash and swell of the ocean as he approached. 

Dream's mask was off again. He swallowed thickly, the sound popping in his ear as he shuffled a foot back and thought about running. Shaking his head he huffed out a breath and slid his foot forward. He wasn't a fucking coward. Dream was just a guy. Just a fucking guy. Not a monster, not some preternatural beast who could meld his way out of Technoblade's grip, grab him, and vanish into the shadows. He didn't even have his pouch of enderpearls anymore, he didn't have much actually-- Technoblade had stripped him down to just his jacket and his trousers and even shucked off his boots. He looked small. Smaller than he remembered. When all he could think about was how tall Dream had always seemed, that looming over him had come easy to the man, even if the only difference between them was inches, not feet. 

Dream kept his head down, shoulders rising and falling in slow breaths, his hands tied behind his back, the rope laced practically up to his fucking elbows in an uncomfortable looking pattern. He inched closer, picked his way over the sand like he was approaching the slumbering rest of a tiger. Beast still deadly, even in it's repose. Dream's eyes shot up to him when he stepped close enough that the man couldn't mistake the crunch of shells and the sift of silt for anything but him.

Their eyes met and he wanted to cover every inch of himself, even if he had clothes on still (all sweat-stained and clinging to his back) it didn't really matter. Not for how his eyes seemed to pick him apart. Dream smiled. Dream smiled like he wasn't-- Like their positions weren't all kinds of reversed here. Him the one standing, Dream the one finally kneeling in front of him.

"Uh, I'll admit….weird to be the one on my knees. Is this how you always felt?" Dream rasped, a small laugh following like he thought that he was just fucking hilarious. 

"Hey, hey-- No talking." Technoblade shook him by the shoulder and Dream's jaw clicked shut, eyes narrowing. "Did you need something, Tommy?" 

"He can talk-- It's…" He swished the words around on his tongue for a moment. "It's fine." 

"Uh...alright." Technoblade glanced between him and Dream, frowning. "Did you need a-- Did you want a moment alone? I'll be right over there, and, uh, his hands are tied, all his gears gone too, he's virtually helpless now, if you wanted to--" 

He wasn't sure if Technoblade wanted him to beat the shit out of Dream or have a conversation. Either way, he nodded, teeth clenched. Technoblade retreated, leaving his quarry kneeled in the waves, the water lapping at Dream's legs and the soles of Tommy's shoes. 

"Bet you enjoy this." 

"What?" 

"You could do anything to me... Hell, I think they'd help you too." Dream shrugged, wriggled his arms around behind his back, shifted the position of his knees-- And he knew kneeling like that wasn't comfortable for long periods of time, but fuck him, he deserved every ounce of discomfort he got here-- Every little fucking ounce of-- "We're not that different, you know." 

"I'm nothing fucking like you." 

Dream smiled, teeth dully reflecting moonlight and he hated the way he flinched at the sight of them. "You're everything like me, Tommy." 

"I--" 

"Maybe you don't, uh--" Dream huffed out a laugh. " _Use_ people the same way I do-- But you use people all the time, don't you? And when they stop being useful...you throw them out." 

"That's--" 

"That's the difference here. I would never have thrown you out, Tommy. I stuck around, I was there for you... None of them--" Dream nodded towards the witnesses. "None of them gave a shit about you." 

He winced at the use of the curse, he could tell Dream was getting sloppy, less composed, his eyes darting to and fro and then honing back in on him as his shoulders hunched up like hackles. He looked feral, on the edge of snapping, on the verge of using his teeth more out of desperation than knowing it would be useful. Their roles had completely reversed-- Reversed so spectacularly and terribly that bile pulsed at the back of his throat. 

"I cared about you, Tommy..." Dream said, voice lowered, and far too fond. "You know that, right?" 

"That wasn't-- None of that shit was--" He swallowed. "You never actually gave a fuck about me, dick. You fucking-- You fucking used me--" 

"I used _you_?" Dream barked out a laugh, hunching over before straightening up again. "I didn't use you, Tommy... You _let_ me fuck you." 

His heart stuttered, chest feeling like it was collapsing, vision tunneling around one tiny little spot, circling in on the smile on Dream's face and sticking. The way he said it made him feel like he had been dropped into the sewers; disgusting, tainted, all kinds of dirty and sopping wet with muck. Shame flared, red-pink on his cheeks. 

"No. No--" 

"You did." Dream tilted his head, corner of his lip drawn up. "You remember... The first time. You didn't even say no, you didn't even try to push me off." 

He clapped his hands over his ears, shoulders hiking up. "Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up--" 

And Dream wasn't supposed to be able to do this to him-- He wasn't-- He was fucking defeated. He was the big fuck all dragon and he had been tied down by the knights, tail to snout, and so stuck through full of arrows that he resembled more a pin cushion or a porcupine than any beast. He couldn't breath fire here, he couldn't bear his sword-sized teeth, he couldn't pin him under his claws or crush him under his tail. Dream was harmless here-- A growling little kitten compared to the lion that had circled him in that fucking tent-- But he couldn't help but feel tiny, infentesimal, miniscule under the scrutiny of his eyes, his laugh, the little cant and tilt of his head, as Dream looked up at him and for all the world it felt like he was the one kneeling instead. 

"C'mon, Tommy, you know me… We're friends. You know I'm not-- Whatever they think I am. And, hey, look, if you let me out of this one, I'll--" Dream fidgeted with his bonds. "I'll make it up to you somehow. Anything you need. I'll-- I'll owe you a favor. I'll… I'll do anything you want." 

He stared down at Dream and he didn't even feel pity. 

"You're--" He curled his lip. "You're fucking disgusting." 

Dream actually recoiled at that, eyes widening a fraction before narrowing and the fact he even made him flinch at all was-- 

Fire snapped up his spine. 

"You're a piece of shit and a perverted little fucked up fucking bitch and I fucking _hate_ you." 

Dream snorted. "You don't hate me. You're too--" 

"What, soft? Yeah, well at least I don't fucking fuck kids, dickhead."

Dream flinched, eyes flicking away and then back. "You're not a kid though, Tommy. You're--" 

"I'm not a fucking adult either! I don't know how the fuck you've twisted it all up in that nasty little fucked up bowl you call a brain, but you--" He paused, teeth grit. "You raped me." 

And the meandering, waiting crowd was far enough away he didn't even care that he said it out loud. 

Dream huffed out a laugh. "I didn't rape you, Tommy, you--" 

"You literally fucking did! You--" 

"If I did, well…" Dream shrugged. "Then you're the one who's ' _fucked up'_ for ever enjoying it."

"I didn't fucking--" 

Dream made a low mocking moan under his breath and Tommy felt his face flush. "Sound familiar to you?" 

"Fucking shut the fuck up!" His fingers trembled so hard he hid them into fists.

That wasn't-- It had just been-- It wasn't him it had just been his body-- That wasn't-- It didn't mean he had-- That didn't stop Dream, who just smirked and leaned into the bit with all the vigor of a coiled viper. 

"Don't you remember, Tommy? You moan and whine like a _girl_ , you know. All, _'Oh, Dream, fuck me, please fuck m--'_ " 

His fist collided with the side of Dream's jaw and the satisfying click of his teeth slamming shut nestled up in his arms and down to his knuckles. 

Dream spit off to the side, blood spilling from the new split on his lip, and he grinned, the red outlining his teeth like a hyena fresh from carrion. "Did I hit a sensitive spot? I _know_ you know I'm kinda good at tha--" 

He cracked his fist across his face again and maybe this was fucked up. Maybe he shouldn't hit a man while he was helpless and down and out for the count. But he wanted to fucking hear Dream beg for his life, cry, anything but mock and laugh and jeer at him like he was the one in control. 

"What? You're just gonna beat the shit out of me then? _Fine_. That doesn't get rid of the way you squirmed around on my di--" 

He punched him again, mostly to stop the words he knew would follow, bile sat acrid on his tongue and he wanted to vomit. 

Dream laughed, the coughing bark of it like crows at his ear. "Tommy, c'mon, you-- You're--" Dream huffed out a breath, eyes narrowing up at him. "Punching me won't change the fact you're a sl--" 

He didn't let Dream finish that one either, his knuckles ached and the last word curled up around his neck like fingers, pressing and heavy and shading him red from crown to toe. He wasn't a fucking-- He wasn't a fucking _slut_. That wasn't-- He wasn't-- He swung at Dream again, watched the man's eyes widen a fraction and--

Technoblade snatched his arm and he tugged out of his grip, stumbling a step back in the sand, trembling head to toe. "Alright. As much as I'd love to see this guy get beat to a pulp, I think that's enough for you."

He blinked, ignored the way his knuckles cried, one weeping at the small split in it. "I-- I came here for Ranboo's fucking-- His fucking book." 

"It's over there, with his other things," Technoblade jerked his head towards a small pile of discarded items closer to the little gathering of people. 

"You didn't-- You didn't fucking hear anything he said, right?" 

"Naw, waves were too loud," Technoblade reassured him. 

He huffed out a breath. 

"Don't want them to hear what you actually are, Tommy?" Dream laughed and Technoblade reclaimed his grip on the man's shoulder, squeezed until it broke off into a whine. 

"Alright, well, I should probably cart this guy off to a cell. Sam's got things ready there now so… I'll, uh, see you back at the cabin once I'm done here." 

He nodded, jaw clenched. And Technoblade didn't actually look at him the way he thought he might once he knew. There wasn't pity in his eyes, there wasn't even disgust. There was just a righteous, burning little flare of anger pinched along the corner of his eyes. 

"See you later, big man." 

"Gross..." Dream muttered, rolling his eyes. 

"You really never learn to shut up do you, man?" Technoblade drawled. 

"Oh, no, see--" Dream chuckled. "I'm not as good at learning how to sit, roll over, and shut up as he is." Dream tilted his head towards him. 

He couldn't let Dream have the last fucking laugh like that. He wouldn't. 

"Have fun learning how to fucking rot in a prison cell then, dickhead." 

Dream opened his mouth to say something in return, but he walked away before he heard it, the waves crashing against the shore muffling them. He wandered back through the throng of the small crowd, no hands reached for him this time, silence greeted him, like he was the fucking pariah and these were the fucking parishioners. Kneeling he rummaged through Dream's things, ignored the way his hands trembled and his vision swam and blurred. 

Hands brushed his away, softly, gently, too soft, and he recoiled. 

"Are you looking for something in particular?" 

And it was Puffy, kneeled down beside him, her voice soft, softer than he had ever heard it, and he didn't want their pity, he didn't want-- 

"I--" He swiped at his face, looked past her to see Eret and Fundy and the others watching him, their own limbs doing that awkward shuffle where you weren't quite sure if you should retreat or stay or what to really do in the moment. "Ranboo's-- He took Ranboo's book. I-- I need to find it." 

"Okay, I can help," Puffy said, like that single sentence didn't barrel into his chest like a pickaxe through his sternum. His eyes pricked again, warm and feverish.

He clenched his jaw and nodded, stamped down the tears and blinked them out of his eyes. He wasn't a fucking cry baby. These people didn't need to see him fucking cry. 

"I think he kept it on his belt. The large leather pouch there--" Eret said from behind Puffy, pointing down at the pouch in question. 

His shoulders hiked up, the scrutiny of all of them not missed, and he felt like a bug caught under a lamp post. He wasn't supposed to be here, out in the open, where they could all see him and pick him apart. Trying to grab the pouch was futile, his fingers quaked enough he couldn't lift it, muscles turned to slopping gelatin. Puffy plucked it free for him, pulled the journal out, and held it out for him. 

"Thanks…" he muttered and he didn't really know what else to say as he took the book and clutched it tight to his chest. 

At least they weren't laying profuse apologies at his feet. Those would be empty, useless, not much an apology could ever do in the aftermath of this, and not like he wanted any of them to ever say they were fucking sorry for not stopping this-- Not seeing this-- And some of them had been fucking friends with Dream, and he really, really didn't want to find out if they still fucking were. 

"If you, uh... need a place to stay, me and Niki have some room. It's not much, but it'll do in a pinch…" Puffy trailed off. 

"I'm fucking-- I'm fine. I'm…" 

"Right, you're living with Techno now, aren't ya?" 

He nodded. 

"That's good." She nodded. "I hope you have a safe journey back then, okay?" 

He nodded again. 

She patted her knees and stood, backing off and letting him stew for a moment as he crouched over the rest of Dream's belongings and wondered how a monster's things could look so normal. Like any other person's items scattered on the sand. There was even a fucking candy wrapper, left abandoned in one of the empty pouches of the utility belt and he wanted to throw the whole fucking thing in the sea. How the fuck could someone-- How could _something_ so fucking vile and fucked up just be that fucking normal? It wasn't fucking-- It didn't make any sense. 

Dream should have looked the way he was on the inside. All horns and teeth and fucking claws, all swamp thing, and less a guy you'd take to the fucking bar to have drinks with after work or something. He should look less the fucking guy chicks brought home to their parents on an awkward third fucking date or some shit and more the thing that got hunted down in the streets like a rabid dog. Dream was normal though. He was just a fucking guy. No one would never guess by the shrugs and the laughs and the smiles hidden under the mask that he was-- That he fucking-- 

He scrubbed at his face, kneaded at his eyes, and unfolded himself like an old mechanical doll, all stiff and rusted. Journal in hand, he trudged through the sand, feet pressing too deep into the give of it. Ranboo still lingered with Phil at the tent, the two stopped talking when he approached and held out the book wordlessly. The half-ender took it, clutched it close to his chest and nodded. 

"Can we go back?" He asked, avoiding looking at the tent, at the cot sitting innocuous and innocent on the inside. 

"Yeah," Phil turned to lead them, waving them forward. "C'mon." 

The journey back to the cabin was quiet. Deadly silent, and he still hadn't really fully comprehended that he wasn't currently pinned under Dream's hands. Some part of him thought, terribly and awfully, that if he blinked, he might wake up on the cot, under the tent, all too absent of clothes, with an arm draped over his side and breath tickling the back of his neck. His eyes stung, burned, as he tried to keep them wide and aware because if he blinked-- If he closed his eyes, this reality might disappear. 

A hand fell on his shoulder and he recoiled, teeth bared, all dog and less Tommy-- And he hated that the comparisons Dream had made were all true. He was just some stupid feral mutt, too used to being hit to let even a gentle hand touch him. 

"You okay?" Ranboo asked. 

He turned his eyes to the ground, left them down where his feet sloshed through the slush and mud. He shrugged, hands buried in his pockets. He didn't really trust his voice right now. He didn't really trust a lot right now. This probably wasn't even real anyway… Just some idealistic little fantasy he had cooked the fuck up and buried himself in while Dream gnawed on his neck and dug fingers into his thighs somewhere else. 

"Hey--" Ranboo said, and Tommy glanced over at him. "You're not there." 

His brow furrowed. 

"Here." Ranboo scooped up some snow, held his other hand out, and it took him a moment to realize he was supposed to place his hand in his. 

He left his hand palm up in Ranboo's, stared blankly at it as the ice and frost was pushed into his palm. Stinging and sharp, the cold creeped up his arm. It wasn't cold on the beach. It wasn't cold in that tent. Dream wasn't cold either. He blinked, shaking his head, fist clenching around the half-melted slush. 

"Sorry, I fucking-- Is that how you--?" The words died on his tongue.

"Yeah… It's-- You get used to it. I've tried to, uhm, come up with ways to ground myself over time whenever I--" Ranboo paused. "Whenever I get a bit lost. Temperature is a good one... for me at least." 

He nodded, shaking out his hand, rubbing the residual water off his palm. "Wait, fuck-- Shit, doesn't this shit hurt you?" 

Ranboo grimaced, quickly drying off his own hand on his suit. "It's, uhm-- It does, but it's not that bad." 

That sounded like a bit of a lie. "Well-- Thanks, big man." 

Ranboo smiled, eyes creasing with the movement, all toothy and wide. 

"Okay, don't get all fucking mushy on me, fucking hell..." 

"Of course, of course..." Ranboo nodded, but his grin didn't falter. 

"You two okay?" Phil asked, wandering back. 

He nodded, Ranboo nodding in time with him. 

"C'mon, it's gettin' real chilled out here." Phil said, turning back on his heel. 

The warmth of the cabin's interior was absolutely blissful and he nearly groaned as he kneeled beside the fire, leaned too close, and held his hands up to it. Fuck his hands _hurt_. He toed off his shoes, peeled off his sopping wet socks and wriggled his toes near the heat of the flames. Ranboo lingered further away from the hearth, pencil scratching frantically over his journal. Phil had immediately headed for the woodstove, the clatter of pots and pans and utensils followed by the stench of cooked meats and some kind of veggies filled the cabin. 

He pulled his legs up, settled his chin on his knees, hands wrapped around his ankles. The flames had gotten low, leaping like tiny swaying fingers of grass rather than the high pop and crackle of a well fed fire. He should add more logs in, poke at them, stoke it back to life, but he stared at the dying dance of orange-yellow-red and all the noise around him melted away. 

He still thought about Dream. He was still there, just lurking in the midst of his head, hidden between the shades of one memory and the next, and he had hoped maybe-- foolishly and naively-- that dragged out into the light, trussed up and caught like a coyote in the jaws of a steel trap for the villagers to gawk at, that maybe Dream would finally leave him alone. But he was still there. It was all still-- 

For a moment, he wished he had the same ability Ranboo had, to just let things filter out of his head and drain out of him… He shook his head. Ranboo didn't have it any easier. It all still sucked. It was still there even if Ranboo didn't remember it the same way he did. And he glanced back to Ranboo who had hunched over his own legs, cross-legged on the floor, face buried in his hands, shoulders trembling--

And yeah... They were both fucked up, weren't they? It was weird to see it from an outside perspective, but… Reassuring in a fucked up, morbid sort of way. At least someone else knew exactly what this fucking felt like. 

He thought about reaching out, distracting Ranboo from whatever was stalking around in his head, but he seemed to snap out of it himself, back straightening, blinking and glancing around. Ranboo frowned and consider the journal laid in his lap, claws running over the cover as he picked it up. 

"If I-- If I threw it in there--" Ranboo said, quietly, hushed, like he was afraid to even mention it as he gestured towards the fire with his journal. "Do you think it would go away?" 

"I don't-- I don't fucking think it's that easy, big man... And you have other things in there, not just that fucking shit--" He shook his head. "Dream isn't the only fucking thing in there, Ranboo." 

"I know. I know that. I--" Ranboo dropped the journal back in his lap and carded his fingers through his hair. "But I don't know why, out of everything, it keeps--" The half-ender scrubbed at his jaw. "It keeps sticking around." 

"Is it, uh--" He licked his lips, swallowing. "Do you remember more?" 

"Yeah… Yeah and I--" Ranboo sighed. "I don't even know _why_. It comes in like-- Like the tide. It's good sometimes, great even... I'm fine one second, and then suddenly it's-- Suddenly I'm up to my neck in it and I can't tread water-- I--I can't even swim, and I..." The half-ender massaged a hand over his neck, fingers wrapped around the front like he could guard it.

"Yeah. It's fucking--" He clenched and unclenched his fists. "It fucking sucks big fucking shit." 

Ranboo shook his head. "He just-- I mean-- He, what? He got locked away... Okay. So, now he gets to sit around in a cell, bored out of his mind, and we're-- We're stuck with all of _this._ How is that-- How is that even fair? What about that is fair?" 

"I don't fucking know..." 

Ranboo laughed, strung out and poked full of weariness. "I thought maybe-- I thought that if he was stopped-- If he got locked up and everyone knew…that it would make it better somehow. And I don't know, maybe it is better knowing he can't hurt Tubbo or anyone else, but it's--" 

"Yeah…" He agreed. 

Ranboo didn't even have to spell it out. He knew exactly what the fuck he was trying to say. They both fell into a simmering silence that broke only with the sharp pop of wood in the fireplace. 

Phil brought them plates of food, holding them out like an offering and in a weird way like an apology. He wasn't exactly hungry, he felt-- Ill wasn't the right word, but he took the plate anyway. Huddled over it and ate, not like someone who hadn't eaten since that morning, but like someone who could only taste dirt and ash on their tongue. Everytime he chewed, he had to remember that the feeling of lips on his weren't real, and he rested the cool tines of the fork against his closed mouth, remembered Ranboo's advice about grounding himself, and it helped slightly. Dream's lips definitely weren't cold or metallic, he knew that much.

He managed to finish the meal, unsure when exactly he had even reached the last bite, as he turned over the single thought in his head, again and again. If Phil hadn't shown up, if Phil and Technoblade hadn't shown up, the fingers that had ran along the waist of his jeans, dipped just below the band as Phil stepped within the tent-- They would have--

His eyes burned, heat slid down his nose, dripped off the end of it as he curled over his legs and dug his nails against the floorboards below him. Dream would have-- He would have-- If Phil hadn't swooped in at the last second, as he always seemed to do-- If he hadn't-- He scrubbed at his eyes, ignored the way it still felt like a thumb and fingers were digging into his face, locking every little whimper and whine behind it. 

"Tommy--" 

He jerked, shoulders hiking up, hands carding through his hair as he huffed out a sharp breath. Teeth grit, he shook his head, and it felt like he was standing in the dim, moonless dark of the tent, the only light from the holes that littered the canvas above, dappling dangerously against the figure loomed over him. 

"Hey--" 

If Phil hadn't-- If Phil hadn't-- If he hadn't-- If Dream had-- He would have-- It would have-- A hand fell on his shoulder and he flinched away from it even as it quickly withdrew.

"Tommy?" 

"What?" He spat. "What the fuck do you want, bitch?" 

"Your, uh, hands bleeding." Technoblade deadpanned. 

And he hadn't even realized the pig had come back. He blinked, looking down at the nail that had bent it's way back to the point the seams had begun to seep red. 

"Fuck..." he breathed, poking at it, the nail hinging painfully, crimson swelling up at the touch. "Fuck." 

"One sec," Technoblade said, standing and heading for the chests. 

He looked around the cabin, realized the fire had died, his plate was gone, that Ranboo and Phil sat at the dining table now, doing their best to pretend they weren't occasionally shooting him looks, whatever conversation they had been having awkwardly halted and failed to restart. Gritting his teeth he shuffled around, ended up cross-legged, back curved, fingers tapping at his cheeks as his elbows rested on his thighs. 

A gapple landed in his lap and he looked up to see Technoblade watching him. 

"That should help with, uh, everything else too." 

"Thanks…" he muttered, forcing himself to take a bite. 

Technoblade glanced over at Phil, and a moment passed between them, some kind of unspoken form of communication occurring as Phil nodded. 

"Hey, uh, Ranboo, there's something downstairs I need help with…For a sec." Phil said, smoothly getting to his feet.

Ranboo blankly stared for a moment. 

The half-ender's mouth dropped into an 'o'. "Oh, yeah, sure, of course, yup, mhm. Lead the way, Philza-- Er, Phil, uhm-- Mr. Minecraft." 

He snorted as Ranboo stumbled after Phil, the both of them disappearing down the ladder. Silence followed. Technoblade settled down, not close, he never sat close by, always leaving enough space for another person between him and everyone else around him.

"Hey, uh--" 

"Did you sell me out?" He snarled. 

"What-- Oh, the Dream favor thing. Uh… no? Did he tell you I had?" 

"Yeah…" 

"Naw, I-- Uh… I don't do favors for people like… that." 

He breathed easier. 

"Did he, uh, say anything else to you, when you carted him the off?" He bit out after a moment. 

"He was… more talkative than I had anticipated, that's for sure."

He wanted to ask. Wanted to ask if Dream had told him everything, if he just spilled all and kept talking and winding all his shame out into the air for Technoblade to pick over. 

"Uh…" Technoblade started. "I'm-- We both know I'm not good at this-- The whole, uh, heart on your shoulder thing." 

"Yeah?" 

"I just… Was curious why you didn't think you could tell me. I mean, valid to not say anything, completely understandable. It's your stuff, I don't have to know any of it, but-- Uh…" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm-- I thought you'd--" 

Technoblade waited, hands perched on his knees, face open and far too trusting. 

"I thought you'd think I was fucking--" He scrubbed at his cheek. "...weak." 

"You thought I'd think you were weak?" Technoblade repeated back, monotone as always. 

"Yeah, I mean-- You're a big fuck all fucking pig! Nobody's fucking-- I mean you're certainly not letting anyone fucking pin you down and you're definitely not letting anyone make you their little bitch." 

"Mm, bit more vulgar than I would have put it, but alright." Technoblade sighed."First off, uh… Just cause all that happened to you, it doesn't make you weak, Tommy." 

"But I didn't-- I mean he probably fucking told you. It's not like I fucking-- I didn't exactly fucking fight back…" 

"He definitely said, uh… a lot of things. Some of it pretty cringe and none of which I will repeat." 

He laughed, wry and thin and his breath burbled in his chest. "Did he tell you that I fucking asked for it?" 

"He… mentioned something like that." 

"And--" He crossed his arms. "See, there you fucking go. I'm fucking-- I'm--" _Disgusting_. 

"I don't think, even if you asked him to do anything, you could ever truly consent that's-- There's an inherent power imbalance there." Technoblade sighed. "He's an adult, you're a-- I mean, you're not-- No matter what, that's not-- That ain't consent, man. And asking for anything under duress isn't-- Uh, that's not consensual either." 

"I wasn't under duress." 

"But were you in your right mind? Like were you all there? Can you say with absolute confidence you weren't just agreeing to it or asking him because you knew that's what he, uh... wanted from you?" 

He flipped it over in his head, mulled it over. "...no." 

Technoblade nodded. "Look, even if you asked for anything from him, it doesn't matter. It was still--" The pig cut himself off and he guessed he wasn't the only one who had trouble saying the word. 

"He-- The--" He stuttered, the words bunching behind his teeth, and burbling out of him before he could stop him. "That first time I got drunk and shit, that's when he-- That was the first time he fucking--" 

Technoblade blinked. "Oh..." 

"He-- I couldn't--" He hadn't been able to even move really, he hadn't even been able to properly lift his limbs or move his lips, or even slur out the no that he had wanted to once he realized what was happening. 

"Hey, don't uh... Don't force yourself to say anything you don't want to. It's alright, man. You don't gotta tell all."

He nodded, teeth clicking as he clamped his jaw shut. Part of him wanted to spill it all though, take a knife and run it from the pit of his neck down to his navel and let every single disgusting thing that had happened spill from him like a gutted animal, steaming and putrid and sticky. The other part of him wanted to crawl into the basement and huddle under his sheets and never emerge ever again. 

He settled for rubbing at his face, fingers clamping over his lips and breath moving fast between the seams of them. 

"Uh…" Technoblade faltered, and he could see the little distressed pinch at the edge of his eyes. "Tommy, hey--" 

He ignored him, hands pressing harder into his jaw and cheeks and he thought maybe-- Maybe he could suffocate himself and just die here. Be done with all of this finally.

"Tommy--" 

His breath hitched and tumbled and fell and escaped his greedy lungs and his vision blurred. 

"You gotta breath." 

He couldn't though. He couldn't. He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't he couldn't-- 

"I'm _really_ not cut out for this… Tommy, listen, just-- Breath. It's fine. You're fine. You're okay. I swear you're okay, man." 

He shook his head, eyes screwed shut, brow crumpling, legs pulling in tight against his chest as he huddled against his knees and mashed his hands against his face. 

" _Bruh_ \-- Shi-- Hey, look, Tommy, hey--" A hand settled on his shoulder, hooved and warm, far too warm, and he didn't flinch from it, he didn't cower from it. 

He latched onto it instead, held on like it was a rope and he'd found it, slimy and algae slick, under the black water by sheer dumb luck alone. His fingers dug into the meat of the arm, nails clawed into it, and he felt the muscles jump under his hands. Knew it was probably painful, but he couldn't unlatch himself from where he had clung on. 

He wasn't sure how long he held onto him, the hand not leaving his shoulder, keeping him both grounded and making his skin itch. When his breathing evened out, he relented finally, letting his hands slip off and pool limply in his lap. The fingers unlatched themselves from his shoulder and he looked up to see Technoblade rubbing at his forearm. Angry red marks, the starts of purples at the edges of the impressions, cropped up the skin of his arm. 

"You got uh, quite the grip there... More than I would have expected all things considered." 

"Fuck off," he muttered, color high on his cheeks. 

"You, uh, good now though?" 

"Yeah…" He paused. "Bitch." 

"Good to know the oxygen loss didn't damage your brain more than it already was." 

He rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk, dickhead." 

"Eh, my brain is rotted from other things." 

"What like being a fucking pig?" 

Technoblade deadpanned. "You're really adamant about the pig thing. You know I'm only sort of related to your average everyday farm pig, right? Hence the, you know, fact I am literally sitting here talking to you and not eating out of a trough." 

"Coulda fooled me with a fucking snout and ears like that. Not to mention you're all fucking pink and hairy and shit."

"Like you don't turn pink everytime someone so much as utters the word women around you." 

His cheeks colored. 

"Now _you're_ all pink." 

"Fuck off, bitch." 

Technoblade laughed, a rare full-chested bark that didn't happen often. 

They sombered out into a comfortable quiet, and he pressed his thumb against the center of his palm, twisted it in the center of it and glanced up at Technoblade. 

"Uh, when you--" 

"Hm?" 

"When you locked him up did he… I mean, you don't think he'll get out or some shit, right?" 

Technoblade huffed out a breath. "Naw. He ain't getting outta there. Trust me. And, uh, on the walk over he... He wouldn't keep his mouth shut, so naturally--" The pig reached into his pocket and plucked out a flat molar still speckled with blood. "One for the souvenir collection." 

"Holy shit! How hard did you clock him, jesus christ man!" He barked, laughing, eyes wide. 

"Let's just say, uh... I don't think he'll be doing much talking for a while." 

He hissed through his teeth in a mock version of sympathy and fell into another peal of laughter. 

"Did you, uh...want it?" Technoblade asked, holding it out.

He hummed, shaking his head. "Naw, it's-- It's kinda fucking nasty." 

Technoblade shrugged and pocketed it again. "Suit yourself." 

He fidgeted, unsure how to broach the question on his mind. "Uh, by the way, big man...is-- Is Ranboo gonna shack up here or some shit, or…?" 

"Phil's actually, uh, finishing up a bed for him right now. Sorry to tell you like this, but you're getting a roommate... Congratulations," Technoblade deadpanned, voice bereft of any inflection.

"Could be worse." 

"Yeah, it could be Ghostbur. Imagine being that guy's roommate. _Cringe_." 

He laughed. "I'm surprised Phil hasn't gone fucking bald." 

Technoblade squinted. "Now that you mention I think his hair's gotten a bit grayer..." 

"Old dusty fucking bastards, the both of you." 

"We're literally not that old, but alright."

"Yeah, but what, aren't you like fucking fifty in pig years?" 

Technoblade leveled him with an unamused look. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" 

He spluttered. "Fuck no, fuck you." 

"Get outta here." Technoblade gestured to the ladder dismissively, but his voice was, dare he even think it, fond.

Stumbling to his feet, he realized his legs were still a bit wobbly, and while joking around with Technoblade made the jittery feeling go away, it lingered and buzzed. The ladder nearly tossed him off twice and he clung to it, bare feet slipping on a rung, palms still clammy. He hated this stupid fucking thing sometimes. He hopped off it once he reached the basement, turned to see two beds now. His pushed up against one wall and what he assumed was now Rambo's up against the opposite.

The half-ender was kneeled on the bed, in the process of tacking up a photo on the wall, pushing a tack into the cobble with his thumb. The stone already littered with other little drawings, doodles of cats and a dog and he was pretty sure those were supposed to be Ranboo's pets. 

"Uh…" He started, unsure what to say. 

Ranboo glanced back at him. "Uhm, hope you didn't mind me decorating a bit." 

He wandered closer, arms crossed, squinted at the photo. It was an old and worn picture, eaten up on one side by burns, of Ranboo and two other figures behind either of his shoulders. One looked more ender than the other, both the faces indistinguishable, scratched and smudged out or charred off, and Ranboo between them, young and smiling and happy. And he never really realized how much of a… sharp cow Ranboo looked. Like a dragon and a cow got mixed together and it was all floppy ears and sharp teeth, one half nearly scaly and sickly smooth like an enderman, the other slightly fuzzy, and jesus, somehow younger Ranboo had bigger and floppier ears as a kid.

"Looks pretty good. Never got around to that shit myself. Thought Technoblade might actually kill me if I started hammering shit into the wall. He's always talking about his fucking property value." 

Ranboo blanched. "Oh-- You don't think he'd--"

"Naw, fuck him. It's fine. Make yourself at home and all that shit." 

Ranboo chuckled. "This place could use a bit more color honestly." 

"Yeah, stone walls pretty boring." He paused, glancing to the pictures and photo. "Uh, did you wanna like hang signs or something?" 

"As a to do list or random phrases or...?" 

He shrugged. "Both, I don't know. Mostly it'll just annoy the fucking pig and that's all that really matters." 

Ranboo huffed out a breath. "He has some signs in a chest up stairs if you wanted me to grab them." 

"You already been rummaging through his shit?" 

"Phil showed me where stuff was in case I needed anything and they weren't around. There is-- Quite a lot up there." 

"Yeah, he's gotta bit of a fucking problem." 

"Did you see how many emeralds he has?" Ranboo asked.

"Yeah! What in the fuck is he even doing with all that? Jesus, save some for the rest of us, am I right?" He laughed. 

"I'll grab the signs if you wanted to figure out what we're putting on them and where to hang them." 

"Sure thing, big man." 

Ranboo clambered his way back up and he let his shoulders fall. It was going to be a bit weird to share a room, he had to admit. He was used to being able to crawl down here and cry or whatever and have nobody see him do all that dumb shit. But now-- 

Ranboo returned, signs clattering where he held them to his chest and slowly picked his way down the rungs. He snatched them from him the second he got down, heading for the far wall, sitting cross legged and holding a sign in his hand as he contemplated what to put. 

They ended up tacking a spread of signs into the stone, not really caring how loud the mallet was or if Phil and Technoblade could hear it from the floor above. And they ranged from ' _build a girlfriend'_ to ' _build a cobblestone tower of power 2.0'_ to ' _get threapy'_ purposefully spelled wrong courtesy of himself, and ' _be less cringe'_ and ' _mess up Techno's chest organization_ ' courtesy of Ranboo, and _'it'll be okay_ ' by Ranboo again, as well as _'find pets???'_ and he thought about adding ' _it'll get better_ ' or something stupid cheesy, but he scrapped the idea and wrote _'steal all techno gapples'_ instead and finished with _'get discs!!!!!!!'_.

He looked over the little collection, ink stains still tacky on his fingers where it had partially dried. Ranboo sat cross-legged beside him, eyes roaming from one sign to the next. 

"You think you'll eventually head back?" He asked. 

"Maybe. What about you?" 

His chin dipped. "Maybe…" 

"I'll admit. It's-- It's easier to think out here. I-- I left a lot behind in L'Manberg and I think getting away from it might help clear things up. The cold helps in a way too... I-- I don't know how to explain it." Ranboo tapped at one of the signs, claw rapping against the wood. "I think I'll stay for a bit. See if it helps at all. I've been-- I've been lacking some clarity for a while." 

"Yeah, makes sense. Stay as long as you need, the pig may bitch about it, but he's actually a bit of a softie." 

Ranboo chuckled. "Uhm, about that… do you think that--" 

"What?" 

"Do you think he'll let me visit Dream? In the prison…" 

He blinked. "Why-- Why the fuck would you want to do that?" 

"I--" Ranboo rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't know how to explain it. But I just-- I think if I visit him, maybe it'll give me, uhm… closure? Like it'll help it all make more sense somehow." 

He thinned his lips, teeth clenched. He never wanted to ever see that green prick ever again, but another part of him wanted to see him regulated down to just dumb jail boy. Part of him also wanted to know with absolute certainty that Dream couldn't get out, ever.

"Did you-- Are you gonna fucking ask him why?" He asked. 

"Maybe... I don't really know yet... I just-- I need to know how much of what's in my head is real and how much is--" 

"Him?"

"Yeah…" Ranboo sighed. 

"I think if you ask Techno he'll let you go. Don't know if he'll fucking like it, but--" He shrugged. "He's not very good with peer pressure, so if we team up to ask he'll definitely cave." 

"That's--" Ranboo paused and nodded. "Okay."

He pulled his knees closer and rested his chin on them. They really should probably go to bed, but he really didn't feel like sleeping just yet. He wasn't even tired. There was energy snapping around his limbs, beckoning him, like he needed to pace or run or shake them out. Ranboo didn't seem tired at all either. 

And they sat in awkward silence until Ranboo brought up Tubbo and that started a spiral of sorts, and he forgot what they even talked about, the conversation faded in and out, his mouth moving automatically, and the torch and the candles puttered and burned lower. And it was easy to talk to Ranboo somehow, it was nice to finally have someone his age around again and not just dusty old men who wanted to talk about boring shit, like being responsible and not being an idiot. 

Somehow, he ended up lying on his bed, sheets pinned under him, but he wasn't even cold, and when he glanced over to Ranboo's side of the room, the half-ender mirrored him on his own bed, hands clasped over his stomach and staring at the ceiling. He couldn't even remember what the hell they had been talking about five seconds ago, and he figured Ranboo couldn't either. 

He squinted at the floorboards and he wondered if Technoblade and Phil had gone to sleep already or if everyone in this cabin was a fucking insomniac. The pig always seemed to rise at the crack of dawn though and he was going to be pissed as all fuck if that was the case tomorrow. 

"You reckon Techno is like...all pig?" He asked after his thoughts switched over and latched onto something new. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean like--" He waved a hand. "Like you think he's got like a little fucking pig tail or some shit?" 

"I can't say I would know that no." 

Technoblade always wore some kind of stupid cloak and it's not like he stared at the pig's ass to tell. "I reckon he does. All curly and weird and shit." 

"Some pigs have longer tails. Like wild pigs." Ranboo said.

"We could ask Phil." 

"You think he would know?" 

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe? They're pretty fucking close." 

Ranboo chuckled. "I, uhm-- I don't think they're _that_ close." 

"Fuck if I know. Phil's always here when he even has half the chance and Techno's literally always talking about him." 

"Well, they _are_ friends." 

"Yeah…" He glanced over. "Hey, you reckon they've ever--" 

" _Okay_ , sleep time." 

He spluttered, but Ranboo had already gotten up to snuff out all the lights and returned to his own bed, wriggled back under the covers and turned his back to him. Sighing he tried to do the same, do the whole turning his shoulders to the rest of the room, until he had to flip back over and press his back to the wall like always. He ended up looking at the little cellar window, watched the firelight from upstairs fade out, curtains either drawn or the fire died, and it was quiet. It was so quiet he could hear the house creak and settle and then go deathly silent too. 

He wanted to tap his fingers against the wooden bed frame, fill his ears up with noise, but he didn't want to annoy Ranboo. Instead, he flipped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his diaphragm. 

How the fuck could Ranboo even sleep? How the fuck could any of them sleep after all of that? He huffed out a breath and rubbed at his eyes. Laid there and resigned himself to no sleep after thirty minutes ticked by and his eyelids didn't even feel heavy. 

_Another sleepless night it is._ He really hated this shi-- 

There was a small whine, like a whimper and he squinted. Had a fucking animal gotten in? Jesus fucking christ if he had to find some raccoon holed up in here he'd kill Technoblade for having such a shitty ass h-- 

It happened again and he sat up, head turning towards the sound. And-- Oh… It was Ranboo. The half-ender curled further into himself, having turned away from the wall, blankets twisted and tangled around his legs. His brows were drawn down, lips turned into a frown and then lifted into a silent show of teeth, like Ranboo was trying to threaten something he couldn't see. When Ranboo flinched, shoulders hunching and fingers scrabbling at his sheets, he made an executive decision. 

Maybe a stupid one, but-- 

He hopped out of bed, tugged the frame away from the wall and vaulted back over it to push it closer to the other. The scrape of the wood against the floor would have woken literally anyone else, but Ranboo seemed dead to it. Still jerking and twitching, claws dug down into the mattress and then searching over the sheets like his fingers were looking for something. 

And look, he wasn't the most touchy feely of guys, sure. But he still remembered, the day after Dream had shot him through with an arrow, and he had tried to sleep. It had all been nightmares and memories of blood choking him and death grabbing him by the nape of his neck, dragging him away, and then throwing him back out, covered in sweat and shaking. And Tubbo had held his hand after he had woken up from the first nightmare, and he hadn't let go, had drifted off to sleep with the reminder of something living clutched in his palm. 

It's not like he even liked holding hands, not like he ever sought it out, but if it had helped him sleep okay after that… maybe it could help Ranboo. He pushed his bed nearly flush to Ranboo's, leaving a little bit of space between the two, and sat cross-legged on it. Waited until the half-ender reached out in the throes of sleep again and grabbed his hand before he could chicken out.

The hand was cold, nearly freezing, so chilled he nearly recoiled, but he grit his teeth and twined their fingers and held onto him, because maybe if Ranboo knew someone else was there then he wouldn't be all alone in his head. Ranboo went still, face scrunching, eyes still shut, shoulders tensing, before he unwound and fell slack. He waited for a bit, other hand tapping away at his knee, toes fidgeting under his crossed legs, back doing that annoying pinching thing where it protested sitting up for too long with shit posture. 

The hand in his tightened and he reflexively squeezed back. He glanced up from where he'd been staring at the back of his palm to see Ranboo awake, eyes focused on the sheets beyond his nose and not him. 

"I-- Sorry, uh--" He stuttered, going to draw back. 

"It's fine…" 

Ranboo didn't let go, didn't look at him either, and he didn't snatch his hand back.

"Were you-- Were you having a nightmare?" He asked. 

Ranboo's fingers jumped around his and tensed. "Yeah..." 

"Real fucked of your head to do that to you…"

Ranboo huffed out a breathy laugh. "My head has the unfortunate tendency of not being the most helpful place." 

"That sucks."

"Yeah… It does." 

Ranboo retreated first, drawing his hand back, and the absence of frigid fingers was weird when they were gone. He shook his hand out, made a show of swiping it over his shirt and pretending like he was getting the cooties or whatever the fuck off him, but it didn't really bother him that much. He hadn't been able to hold anyone's hand since-- 

"Uhm--" 

He glanced up to see Ranboo propping himself up and staring at where he had pushed his bed right up next to his. 

"Shit, sorry, fuck--" He laughed, loud and raucous to hide the fuck up. Rolling off the other side of the bed he started to drag it back toward his part of the room. 

"Wait--" 

He froze. 

"You can leave it there." 

"Here?" He gestured to where he'd dragged it, far enough that a chasm of a couple feet had opened between them, but not a whole room's width. 

"Yeah. That's-- It's okay like that." 

He nodded, clambering back onto the bed he tried to ease the awkwardness by turning over on his side and keeping his back towards Ranboo. And this close, he could hear Ranboo breathing, but it wasn't-- It didn't feel threatening. 

"Goodnight, Tommy..." Ranboo said, nearly muttered for how quiet it was.

"Night, big man." 

And it was weird. Weird how he had ended up in this basement the first time, nearly frozen to death and bleeding, bruised and bashed all over, fresh off the presses from Dream's fucked up little idea of exile, all fucking by himself and too far from home. Weird how now-- Well now, he wasn't. There was someone else here too, and they knew how fucked up it felt to live inside skin that had fingers slipped under it. 

Out here, in the frigid wastes of snow and tucked into the warm, homely basement of a cabin, maybe he wasn't alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Next parts: 
> 
> [Ranboo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962561) part that details the days between leaving Technoblade's cabin and showing back up there. 
> 
> [Technoblade pov](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984974) part where he gets to hear what happened from Ranboo, treat Dream like dog shit on his walk to the prison, lock him up, and deal with two traumatized teens in his house. (Phil's there too)


End file.
